Maybe It's Just Me
by mmmh-Hot-Sauce
Summary: Tara Maclay is a no-nonsense, hot headed Homicide Detective hellbent on solving every case that's put before her, even if that means begrudgingly accepting the help of a certain pathologist.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The florescent light lit room housed more desk than the room could comfortably sustain. The occupants, tired and bleary eyed from too many hours of overtime, sat slouched in their heavily worn down chairs. Slack faced, they squinted at their computer screens as their hands cramped from endless writing. A cork-board was positioned on the far wall, plastered with colorful glossy photos of lackluster faces and hand scribbled notes as red twine cobwebbed around the pictures.

"Maclay, Wallace. Go take a look at this." Lieutenant Virginia Gordon ordered as she tossed the case file she was holding onto the desk in front of her. As the papers slid toward her, Tara slammed her hand on the top of the file, stopping the dossier before it slid off the desk. "The GSA has already sent someone down there."

"Let me guess. Rosenberg." Tara spat out the name distastefully. Ever since they had worked together for the first time nearly two years ago, they had never been on each other's good side. "Why the hell do they keep sending her?"

"Because, Maclay, she's the best damn medical examiner in the entire west coast, never mind Los Angeles. Get over it." Julian Wallace, her long-time partner, responded with a smirk. Tara shot the athletically built rusty haired brunette a stern glare from her side of the conjoined desk.

"I think you're the one who should get over it, Julian. She's not interested." Tara snapped back. Julian had been trying to get the grade A medical examiner to go out with him for the past year, but his effort had been shot down each time. He twisted his mouth to one side in annoyance at being reminded of his repeated rejections.

"Oh, will the two of you stop it? You're worse than my children. Just get your asses down there and do your damn job." Lt. Gordon barked as she turned away to head back to her office. Tara and Julian shared an amused look before gathering up their stuff and then moved to leave the precinct.

*

After a leisurely thirty minute drive, filled with friendly banter, they reached the crime scene.

Parked along the side of the road were several police cruisers and an ambulance with its lights flashing. Several feet ahead, just past the sidewalk, were several police officers trying to push curious onlookers and the occasional reporter back, not wanting them to get too close to the crime scene.

"Detective Maclay and this is Detective Wallace from Homicide." Tara uttered to one of the officers as they flashed him their respective badges. The officer nodded his head slightly as he lifted up the yellow tape that sealed off the crime scene; inviting them to go through.

"What have we got?" Tara asked the officer-in-charge, a pudgy middle aged Sergeant, as they walked deeper into the alley, where the body lay. At the back of the cramped alley, surrounding the victim's prone form were half a dozen investigators from the evidence collection unit, diligently collecting samples and snapping pictures.

"Daniel Osbourne; thirty-three year-old Caucasian male. He's a street musician. His body was found just a couple hours ago by the kitchen help from the restaurant next door. The poor fella came in here to dump the trash, but came across this instead." The Sergeant gestured towards the body. "Whoever did this is one hell of a psychopath."

"Did he touch anything?" Julian question as he eyed the body.

"No. He said he nearly peed in his pants. So if you find a urine sample, it'll probably be his." The officer joked. Tara and Julian laughed a little, as appropriate as the current situation allowed.

"Thanks Sergeant …. Patterson." Tara said, after taking a glance at his nameplate.

When they reached the back of the alley, the two seasoned detectives cringed at the ghastly sight. The victim's front was sliced wide open with most of his internal organs spilled out onto the garbage caked asphalt with a large, nearly congealed puddle of blood surrounding the majority of his body. Kneeling beside the body, careful to avoid contaminating the scene as she examined the wound, was a petite redhead in navy blue medical scrubs.

"Dr. Rosenberg." Tara greeted monotonously as she stepped up next to the medical examiner.  
Willow raised her head up slightly to see Tara and Julian standing over her and the body.

"Detective Maclay, Detective Wallace." She greeted back with equal enthusiasm before turning her attention back to the bloody mess.

Tension was heavy in the air as silence loomed over the three of them. Julian cleared his throat awkwardly. "So … what can you tell us, Dr. Rosenberg?" He asked, deciding to break the silence. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he was attacked by a wolf."

Tara fidgeted around, getting rather impatient at waiting for Willow to answer. She placed her hands on her hips and clenched her jaw in irritation. "Well?" she asked, raising the volume of her voice a little.

Willow shot her a displeased look. "You think this is easy? If you're so impatient, come do it yourself," she snapped. The lackadaisical attitude that Detective Maclay always seemed to have towards her, pissed the redhead off tremendously.

"What's your problem?" Tara growled as she took an intimidating step forward but was stopped by her partner before she got any further. Willow scowled at her from her crouched position in response.

"Come on, Maclay. Calm down." Julian whispered into her ear as he pulled her back by her arm. "Take your time, Dr. Rosenberg. Whenever you're ready." He said reassuringly to Willow, giving her a polite smile. Tara shrugged her partner's hands off of her fiercely and stood a few paces back from the body with her hands folded across her chest, a frown on her face. There's just something about the redhead that seemed to always get on her nerves.

Willow let out a long, forceful puff of breath. "Well, based on the temperature of his body, he's been dead for at least eight hours. And the angles of the slices on his body indicate that the killer is most likely left handed." She explained calmly as she indicated the direction of the blades movement with her fingers. "The slicing patterns the blade made are very unique, not like any typical knife. The shape of the blade may be curved or at the least, tipped with a hook. When the killer pulled the knife out, the organs got pulled out along with it."

Tara grimaced in disgust at the description while Julian nodded thoughtfully. "Thanks. Is there anything else we should know?" He asked.

Willow shook her head in the negative. "That's all I've got for now. I'll take the body back to the morgue and see what I can find under a more thorough examination, "she replied as she stood up. "I'll call you when I find something."

"_If _you find something," Tara said under her breath, earning her another disapproving glare from Julian.

Willow narrowed her eyes at Tara before picking up her medical examination kit. "I know you don't like me, Detective Maclay. But could you at least show me some respect?" She question with a trace of hurt detectable in her tone.

Tara dropped her head in shame. She chastised herself mentally for being so short-tempered with the medical examiner. "I'm sorry," she mumbled like a petulant child.

Willow turned and walked away without so much as a response, clutching the handle of her kit tightly. She pursed her lips into a straight line, keeping up her appearance as she headed in the direction of her car.

"What is wrong with you?" Julian scolded as soon as the redheaded pathologist was out of sight.

"I don't know! It just came out of nowhere," Tara protested lamely. "There's just something about her."

"I don't think it's her who is the problem. Maybe there's just something about you," Julian retorted, frowning deeply at his partner.

"Can we just stop talking about this? There's a psychotic killer to find," Tara said exasperatingly.

"Fine. But the two of you need to work out your issues. Seriously. There's only so much drama I can take," Julian stated. He loathed being stuck in the middle of the two women. There wasn't one case that he could recall in which they didn't snap at each other, effectively cutting the other down with snarky remarks.

"Let's just solve this damn case first, okay? We should pay a visit to Osbourne's family, tell them the bad news." Tara rubbed her temples to relieve the pressure in her head. She hated this part of her job the most.

Julian nodded and they walked in silence to the car.


	2. Chapter 2

"Alright, got it. Thanks, Harris. Nope, still not buying you a donut. I'm gonna hang up now," Tara chuckled as she disconnected the phone call.

"Can't you just buy that poor guy one stupid donut?" Julian shook his head in amusement. "What's the address?"

"Here. It's not far away." Tara passed him the small piece of paper she wrote the address on. "And no, I'm not going to buy him a donut. It's a matter of principle," she said as she stared out the passenger window, watching the colorful buildings of Los Angeles fly past as they drove through the downtown streets.

"Yeah right. Just admit it, you're penny-pinching," Julian teased, earning him a playful smack on the arm. "Hey! I'm driving."

"Then shut the hell up and drive," Tara retorted good-humoredly. She had known Julian since the first day of police academy and they had helped each other through countless of hard times, on and off the clock. If it wasn't for Julian, she knew she would be alone in the increasingly depraved world. She had lost her family years ago. One by death, the others by choice. Julian however felt like home, like the older brother she had always wanted and the best friend she never knew she needed.

They pulled up in front of a rather torn and tattered red-bricked apartment building ten minutes later. "This is it." Julian announced as he turned to his partner, turning off the ignition. "Let's do it."

Tara nodded grimly, clenching her jaw as she repeated the well-rehearsed speech in her head. She had gone through this process numerous times and thought she would be numbed by now. Instead, her heartache only intensified. She slammed the car door shut and then jogged to catch up with Julian, who was already walking up the steps to the entrance.

They climbed the narrow staircase up to the fifth floor and went their separate ways to find the apartment.

"Found it!" Tara called out as she pointed to the door in front of her. Julian strode up to stand next to her and they stood outside, staring at the number '5F' on the wooden door for a brief moment.

"Ready?" Julian asked as he raised his closed fist, knocking on the door once Tara gave him the affirmative.

They heard scuffling from inside of the apartment before the door opened. An older woman with greying hair and soft features greeted them. "May I help you?" she asked as she smiled gently at the two strangers.

"Are you Mrs. Osbourne?" Tara asked. She could feel her heart tightening as she asked the question. The old lady gave the two of them a hesitant nod, a frown working its way to her face.

"Is there something wrong?" she questioned tentatively as she looked at the duos dejected faces, a sense of foreboding overcoming her.

An older man with thinning orange hair walked up to stand behind her, putting his hands on either side of her shoulders as he looked earnestly at the visitors. "Can we help you with something?"

"I'm Detective Maclay and this is my partner, Detective Wallace," Tara said somberly as she produced her badge to the couple. "We're with LAPD homicide."

Tara didn't get to go any further. The woman's lower lip started to tremble as she stared broken heartedly at the two detectives. She knew what was coming next, call it a mother's intuition, but she had to ask anyways in the hopes that the sinking feeling in her stomach was wrong. "Is Daniel okay?"

Tara's throat tightened as she looked at the distraught couple. She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to be the one who told these parents they would never see their son again. This was the part of her job she hated the most. Telling families that they will never be whole again. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Osbourne, but…"

"No. No," Mrs. Osbourne repeated, not wanting to hear the words about to spill forth from the detective's mouth. "No, you're wrong."

Tears were beginning to flood the old lady's eyes, as well as Tara's. "I'm terribly sorry … but your son was found dead this morning." Her voice was soft, cracking towards the end of her sentence.

Mrs. Osbourne's legs gave out as she collapsed down to the ground, sobbing. Tara and Julian moved quickly to help steady Mr. Osbourne as his body started to tremble; his own lips quivering.

*

After an indefinite amount of time and comforting, the four of them finally managed to move into the apartment. Tara and Julian sat on the couch opposite the victim's parents. The old couple held each other's hand in their own, lending support and courage to one another.

"Do you know anyone who might want to harm Daniel?" Julian asked softly. "Was he hanging out with anyone that maybe could've gotten him into trouble?"

"Danny is a good boy, always has been. He was never in trouble with the law, not once." Mrs. Osbourne tried bravely to fight back hitching sobs as Mr. Osbourne rubbed one hand up and down her back soothingly. "Who would do such a thing to him?"

"He got along so well with others, never once complained about anyone before." Mr. Osbourne spoke up, his voice slightly hoarse. "At least not to us."

"Does he have any close friends that he may have confided in?" Tara asked, keeping her emotions in check. She wanted nothing more than to find the killer and bring them to justice. An overwhelming sense of righteousness started to burn fiercely within her.

"Well, maybe Verruca might know something. They have been dating for three years now. She's a really sweet girl, they just got engaged. Oh poor Verruca, she's gonna be so heartbroken!" Mrs. Osbourne broke down in tears again as she clung desperately to her husband. Realization was starting to fully set in. Her sweet boy was never coming home.

Tara and Julian shared a knowing look. "We're so sorry about your son, Mr. and Mrs. Osbourne. Don't worry; we'll catch whoever did this to him." Julian assured. The old couple merely nodded sullenly in response. "If you need anything, anything at all, you give us a call."

*

"Damn," Tara breathed out as soon as they exited the apartment building. "I hate being the bearer of bad news."

"Yeah, that was rough." Julian responded, his expression grim.

Julian's work issued phone began to ring before either of them could continue with the conversation. He pulled his phone from the front pocket of his dark-blue jeans and flipped it open. "Wallace."

"Hi Detective Wallace, its Dr. Rosenberg, I found something. You and Detective Maclay can come down and have a look." The voice on the other end of the phone said.

"That's great news. We're coming over right now. Thanks!." Julian replied and smiled to himself before flipping the phone shut. Even though the redhead had always politely turned down his dinner invitations, stating it was best not to mix business and pleasure, he had a feeling that Dr. Rosenberg was starting to warm up to him. After all, his boyish good looks and charming personality always worked for him in the past.

Tara arched an amused eyebrow at seeing Julian smiling foolishly at nothing in particular. "What is it?" she asked, curious about the sudden change in mood in her partner.

"Oh, nothing," he shook his head dismissively. "It's just Dr. Rosenberg. She wants us to go down to the morgue. She said she found something."

"She better have," Tara quipped. Instantly, she raised both her hands up in surrender when Julian shot her an annoyed look.

"Would it kill you to be nice to her?" Julian question as he walked towards their patrol vehicle.

"Actually, it would." Tara retorted, going around the front of the car to the other side. "Besides, _she_ was the one who started all this hostility, remember? Acting all high and mighty on the first case we had with her, only to snap at me on the proceeding one. _She_ started it…" Tara continued, coming close to whining like a little kid. But if she was completely honest, although she would never admit this to Julian, she knew damn well that she had been the one to start this ongoing feud which manifested itself out of jealousy.

Julian had gone on and on about Dr. Rosenberg after first meeting her, claiming he felt like she could possibly be 'the one' and was going to build up the nerve to ask her out. Jealousy and a sense of foreboding instantly washed over her. She had been present for many of Julian's conquests, but never had she heard him talk with such devotion about a woman before. It scared her. If her best friend started dating the pathologist, all of his free time would be consumed by the redhead, and that inevitably would leave her alone in this seemingly darkening world. She hated herself for being so petulant, but she was scared to lose her best friend and end up alone.

Even though her first time meeting Willow occurred almost two years ago, she still remembered the incident as clearly as though it had just happened.

They had been sent to a boat yard where a body had washed up on shore.

_Walking down the embankment toward the scene of the crime, Willow ducked under a yellow crime scene tape that was partially held up for her by the officer guarding the entrance to the dock. Snapping a pair of blue, latex gloves out of her pocket, Willow approached Detective Julian Wallace who was standing by, awaiting her presence._

_"Good morning Dr. Rosenberg," Julian said brightly, his jovial tune seemingly out of place for an active crime scene.  
Giving a demure smile, Willow nodded politely at the rust haired detective in lieu of a greeting. "What do we have here?" she asked as she slid one hand followed by the other into the pair of gloves._

_Raising the clipboard he had in his hand, Julian scanned over the notes jotted down by the initial officer who received the call. "Female jogger, Angela Swanson, age 28. Trauma to the back of the head and traces of foam in her mouth. CSU is upriver trying to search for where she went in." Julian prattled off as he read through the notations. Glancing to his left, he looked at the medical examiner who appeared to be deep in thought before continuing. "Coroner stated that the liver temp is 95.1 and water temp is 64."_

_"Two hours more or less," she replied without looking at the detective, her concentration focused completely on the deceased woman, covered by a yellow sheet, at the end of the dock._

_Circling the body, Willow positioned herself on the deceased woman's right side before reaching down to remove the tarp. Kneeling next to the jogger, Willow visually examined the corpse, her eyes flickering over the woman's slightly parted mouth, noticing the beginning signs of a blue hue before lowering her gaze to bare shoulders._

_At the sound of old wooden floorboards creaking under shoes, Julian looked up from the victim to see his partner approaching. "Ah, Tara, you're here, good." Pointing with his pen to the focus driven redhead, he introduced his partner to the medical examiner. "This is Dr. Willow Rosenberg. I don't think you've pulled her before. She's the one who helped Harris and I on that fry-cook case last month"_

_"Oh, no I haven't, but I've heard all about Dr. Rosenberg," Tara replied sardonically as she came to a stop beside her partner, the man who had not stopped yammering on about the redhead for the past three weeks. "This must be our lucky day."_

_At the detectives mocking words, Willow slowly raised her head to get a look at the newcomer. She gazed up into shockingly beautiful blue eyes, the woman's beauty catching her off guard for the slightest of seconds. Keeping her face as impassive as possible, unwilling to give the brunette the satisfaction of seeing her falter, Willow recanted with sarcasm of her own. "Look at that … already we agree on something."_

_At the brunettes scowl, the medical examiner gave a tight lip smile while cocking her head to the left slightly, watching in amusement as the detectives eye twitched. "Our victim has blunt force trauma to the back of the head, preliminary indications of drowning. No scrapes or abrasions. No signs of defensive wounds. She went into the river clean after being hit. Liver temp puts it at about two hours ago." She gave the brunette one more pointed look once she glanced up from her note pad which she had been scribbling feverously on. "And whoever attacked her did it on the west side of the river."_

_"How do you know that?" Julian asked inquisitively with a soft shrug of the shoulder._

_"She got some sun this morning." Willow replied nonchalantly as she peeled the used gloves off of her hands._

_"So?" Tara questioned accusatorily._

_"So, two hours ago the east side of the river was in shadow." Willow replied professionally, her tone even keeled the whole time._

_"That's it?" huffed out Tara factitiously, her pen wielding hand waving about in front of her as she let out a short chortle. "You haven't caught the murderer yet?"_

_"No, detective, but give me time" the redhead said through a tight lipped smile, her expression conveying her displeasure for the woman standing before her. Stepping over the lower portion of the corpse, Willow walked away from the two detectives, calling over her shoulder in the process, "Autopsy, two hours"._

_After their first unsuccessful encounter, three weeks went by before they ran into each other again. Tara and Julian had been handed a case by their Lieutenant, sending them to a natural history museum when one of its employees was found deceased inside one of the exhibits. Willow, once again, was already on scene, examining the body when the detectives arrived. The two of them approached her to get the physical details of the homicide, which led to Tara pointing out a peculiar bruise on the victim's inner thigh, asking Willow, not so politely, to check it out. That was when the redhead snapped at her. "Would you like me to tell you how to do your job?" All hell broke loose afterwards. Since then, whenever they worked on a case together, sarcastic off handed comments and snarky remarks would be exchanged in-lieu of polite conversation._

"That doesn't mean you have to continue," Julian rebuffed. He was stuck in the middle, between his best friend and his crush, unable to pick a side. It wasn't a great position to be in. "Get in the car, Maclay." He said annoyingly as he got into the black BMW coupe and sat himself in the driver's seat; turning the key and starting the engine.

Tara rolled her eyes dramatically before opening the car door and getting into the passenger's seat.

"I saw that," Julian said flatly once Tara settled into the car..


	3. Chapter 3

"Dr. Rosenberg, you've got something for us?" Julian asked once he and Tara reached Willow's side beside the steel examination table. They were in a well-equipped morgue in the basement of UCLA Medical Center. The medical examiner, though not unusual, was alone inside the room.

Willow was seated on a swivel stool beside the metal table on which the victim laid. She was looking into a microscope on an adjoining table, occasionally adjusting the lens as she examined the contents on the slide. "Yeah. Here, take a look at this." She moved aside to allow the two detectives to take turns looking into the microscope.

"I also found several bruises around the abdomen and scabs on his knuckles, but they were already healing. He could have gotten them a few days or even a week before." She continued.

Tara furrowed her eyebrows when Julian gave her a shrug and a blank stare as he looked up slightly from the microscope. She gave him a little push as a signal for him to get out of the way.

"Care to tell us what it is we're looking at?" Tara asked while looking at the dark colored crystal-like specimen through the scope. Science had never been her forte in school and the image on the slide was just as baffling as anything she had looked at while in class all those years ago.

Willow took a calming breath to soothe her nerves at hearing Tara's peeved tone, but couldn't help frowning in annoyance. "It's obsidian," she stated plainly. There were times when she wanted to make nice, but whenever they started 'talking', Tara's snappiness reminded her how that could never happen.

"So?" Tara questioned after sharing a baffled look with Julian.

"It's a type of volcanic glass; chemically similar to granite. I found several tiny pieces stuck inside the victim's body along his sternum. In the ancient times, obsidian was used to make ceremonial objects and blades for knives. Now the only place you can find one is probably in an antique store." Willow explained.

"Or on the internet," Tara replied sarcastically as she asked, "ever heard of E-bay?"

Willow narrowed her eyes indignantly at her. She decided that she had had enough of the brunette's insolence. "You've got what you came for. Now, why don't you get the hell out of my morgue?" she hissed as she narrowed her eyes at the detective.

"You're throwing us out?" Tara breathed out in disbelief. This was the first time Willow had declared to want them out of her examination room.

"Wouldn't be the first time a woman threw you out," Willow sneered.

"What did you say?" Tara raised her voice at the redhead, staring angrily as her nostrils flared. Julian moved to stand directly in front of Tara, blocking her view of Willow. He placed his hands on either side of the brunette's shoulders in an attempt to calm her down. Her face was beet-red as anger flushed her body.

"Let's just go, Tara." He said in a soft voice. He had never witnessed the two women squabble so heatedly before. Things between them had escalated to a whole new level and he was fearful that fists would start to fly.

"Did you hear what she ju-" Tara stopped her protest grudgingly when she saw the stern expression on Julian's face. She put her hands on her hips and squeezed her eyes shut in anger and frustration. "Fine." With that, she turned around and stormed out the double-doors of the morgue.

Julian turned back to Willow, who had one hand on her forehead and the other on her hip. A look of exasperation evident on the young woman's face. He pressed his lips into a straight line before turning to leave as well. He was at a loss of words.

When he was halfway down the hallway, Julian heard a loud bang resounding from the morgue much like someone had just slammed a fist onto a metal table. He stopped abruptly at hearing it. After letting out a defeated sigh, he continued his walk to the elevator.

*

"I can't believe she said that!" Tara yelled, gesturing wildly inside the car. She had been going on and on about the interaction at the morgue for the last twenty minutes, which was about the same time they drove away from the hospital. "She doesn't know anything about me. And she acted all high and mighty, like she's better than me. Who the hell does she think she is?"

Julian had been listening to his partner ramble on angrily about Willow, not an uncommon occurrence after being in the redhead's presence. Today however, his ears were starting to hurt. She had started to bring up snippets of arguments she had had with Willow in the past six months, which he was sure no one actually remembered. He himself didn't even remember the events and he was there in all of them, apparently.

He put the brakes on the car when the traffic light turned red. Tara was still rattling on in the passenger's seat, but it barely registered in his mind. The rambling had become gibberish about ten minutes ago, the words a low buzzing nose steadily penetrating his ears. Julian took in a deep breath. _That's it_.

"Stop!" he yelled, dragging out the one syllable word. Tara jumped in her seat at the sudden shriek, pressing her back into the corner between the car door and the seat. Her left hand gripped the side of the leather-cushioned seat while her right palm was pressed on the ceiling of the car, in a comical pose. She stared wide-eyed in shock at Julian, her face having shifted to a slightly pale color from the fright.

"Would you _please_ stop?" Julian pleaded breathlessly, his face flushed.

"You couldn't have told me nicely? No need to yell. You nearly scared the crap out of me." Tara grumbled, settling back into the seat once more.

"Yeah right. Would you really have stopped if I asked you nicely?" Julian shot back with a smirk as he stepped on the accelerator when the light turned green.

"No," Tara mumbled sheepishly as she crossed her arms against her chest.

"You've never been like this before. It's not like that was the first time Rosenberg made a jibe at you. Why are you making such a big deal about it this time?" Julian question as he arched an eyebrow. For the first year or so, whenever she and Willow argued, Tara would brood for a while or plainly shrugged it off after leaving the redhead's presence. However, he had noticed that she had become increasingly bothered by the redhead in recent times for no obvious reason.

Tara let out a long breath through her nose. She seemed to have calmed down significantly. "I don't know. When she said that, it kinda …" _hurts?_ "…just pissed me off," she replied. She frowned slightly at the initial thought, wondering where it came from. She couldn't deny the fact that Willow seemed to get on her nerves much more lately, making her feel a tad uneasy.

"You_ always _get pissed off," Julian retorted, interrupting Tara's train of thought. "It's like your trademark."

"Yeah, like I am right now," she snapped her head to the side to glare at him. Julian shot her an amused smile, infecting Tara as well. She shook her head in amazement at how he seemed to always make her feel better so effortlessly.

"Well, now that you are feeling better, can you call Harris and have him check out that obsidian thing?" Julian asked, putting his head back into the case after getting a little sidetracked by the drama of it all. "We need to go talk to Osbourne's girlfriend."

"Fine. But if he asks me to buy him that stupid donut again, I'm gonna shove one down his throat when we get back to the precinct." Tara quipped as she dialed the number on her phone.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Miss Harper?" Tara called out for the fourth time from outside the victim's girlfriend's apartment. They had been knocking on the door for a couple of minutes now, each time receiving negative results.

"Maybe we should go. Come back tomorrow." Julian suggested. Since no one had answered the door this long, chances were no one was home. Tara seemed reluctant though. She hoped to get new leads on the case as soon as possible. The thought of a psycho killer running loose on the streets didn't sit well with her. The faster they put him behind bars, the better.

"Miss Harper!" Tara tried for the last time, banging on the door more forcefully. A few seconds later, the sound of footsteps could be heard inside of the apartment before the door swung open.

A disheveled woman with dirty blonde hair stood by the half opened door, leaning on the frame of it. She had a blue blanket wrapped around her, her hazel eyes squinting against the bright lighting of the corridor. "Who are you?" she asked in a hoarse voice and sniffled for a bit afterwards.

"I'm Detective Maclay from the DHI. This is Detective Wallace," Tara made a vague gesture to Julian. "You're Danial Osbourne's girlfriend?"

"Yeah. What's wrong? Oh my god, is he in trouble?" Verruca stood up straighter and appeared to be much more awake at the mention of her boyfriend, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

Tara and Julian looked at each other. "I'm sorry, Miss Harper. Danial was found deceased this morning," Julian said solemnly as he broke the news.

"What?" she breathed out disbelievingly, her eyes glistening with tears. "This is a joke. You're joking. He put you up to this, didn't he?" When their grim features failed to shift, Vurruca let out a heartfelt sob, her hands flying to her face to cup her quivering lips.

Julian took a step forward and wrapped his arms around the distraught woman's shoulders before she could crumble to the ground.

"How? How?" she asked, her words mumbled as she spoke into the detectives chest, her tears dampening the fabric.

"He was ... he was stabbed," Julian said as gently as he could. There was no easy way to tell someone that a loved one has been murdered. He had tried it many different ways, but over time, he realized it was best not to sugarcoat the situation.

When Verruca failed to respond, her body going limp in his ar, Julian led her to the couch inside her apartment and sat her down slowly. Tara followed behind them after closing the door, her eyes shifting around the small yet cozy apartment.

"Do you know who did it?" Verruca asked as tears flowed down her cheeks. She pulled the blanket tighter around her.

"No, which is why we're here," Tara stated flatly. "Do you know if anyone would want to hurt him? For any reason," Tara asked, passing the crying woman a tissue box that was resting on the kitchen counter. She then moved to sit on the coffee table, directly in front of the mourning blonde.

"No." she said through a hiccup as she shook her head. "I don't think so." She took the tissue box offered to her, giving the detective a weak smile albeit unsuccessfully. She thought for a moment before continuing. "But he got into a dumb scuffle with some guy not too long ago. I don't know his name though."

"What happened?" Julian questioned as he flipped open a pocket notepad in preparation to jot down some notes. Tara leaned forward to listen more closely, her interest peaked.

"This guy accused Danial of stealing 'his' spot. Danny used to perform outside an auditorium, but the traffic flow was slow, so he changed locations and started performing at the entrance to the Civic Center Station about a month ago. Last week, they had a huge argument and then they got physical." Verruca explained, and then blew her nose into the tissue. "They threw a few punches each and Danny came home with a few cuts and bruises but nothing serious."

"Do you remember anything or know of anyone else that might help us?" Julian asked softly, head bowed as he scribbled on the notepad. Casting his gaze upwards, he caught Verruca shaking her head in the negative.

"Are you gonna be okay alone? We can stay with you for a while longer." Tara offered, placing a comforting hand on Verruca's knee.

"Could you, please?" she asked tearfully.

The two of them were back in the precinct after spending about an hour accompanying and consoling Verruca until they were sure she could be left alone.

Tara plopped down into her seat and threw her head back, exhausted after a rather long day. Julian, on the other hand, turned on his computer as he prepared to update the CAD report with their day's findings, not quite as worn-out.

"Hey! There are two of my favorite detectives!" A medium height, shaggy haired brunette man exclaimed with his arms spread out as he approached their desk.

Tara grudgingly lifted her head up. She could recognize that voice from anywhere. "What do you want, Harris? If you say donut, I'll snap your head off," she threatened in jest. Julian let out a bark of laughter in amusement.

"Someone's snippy. Let me guess … hmm," Harris placed an index finger on his lower lip and pretended to be deep in thought. "Dr. Rosenberg?"

Tara let out a noisy breath. "I don't wanna talk about it," the brunette replied dully. She was still affected by the rather heated encounter with Willow earlier. They had always jabbed at each other, but never made any personal attacks.

"Yeah right. I seem to remember you rambling on and on about it in the car," Julian retorted. "My ears still hurt you know," he joked while sticking out his lower lip and rubbing his ears with his hands.

"Oh, shut up." Tara snapped back irritably at the tease. "And you too." She narrowed her eyes at Harris when he broke out into laughter.

"Aren't the two of you just adorable?" Harris asked good-humoredly. Tara rolled her eyes in response.

"Anyways, I'm here to give you this." He handed the rusty blonde hair detective a file, switching to business mode instantly. "Those are the lists of all the antique stores in Los Angeles that have anything obsidian-related listed on their website in the last four months. I'm checking the net, seeing if anyone is selling off a personal collection or something but nothing's coming up so far."

"Thanks, Harris," Tara said gratefully before the man turned to leave. If they could track down the weapon used to kill Daniel Osbourne, it would most likely lead them to the killer as well. She took a look at her watch. It was getting pretty late; most of the stores were probably closed. They would have to wait till tomorrow to continue the investigation.

"We should go to the ones located near the Civic Center first and spread out from there," she suggested wisely to Julian, who nodded in approval.

"Maybe we should call Dr. Rosenberg and ask her to come along." Tara instantly shot Julian a glare at the suggestion. He met her glare and tilted his head to one side.

"She could help us. She has a better idea on what kind of weapon killed Daniel Osbourne. Her insights have helped us a lot in the past, I'm sure they are gonna come in handy," he explained. He wanted nothing more than for the two women to work together in peace, but he wasn't sure if that day would ever come. The one thing he knew for sure though was that Tara would never let any personal issue affect her job; especially when it involved a murder investigation.

"Fine, but you call her. I'm not talking to her anymore," Tara said sulkily. She had had this weird feeling in her chest since Willow made that upsetting comment, but she couldn't quite place it. There had been other times when she had felt that same weird feeling and in all those other times; she couldn't quite figure it out either. She had been feeling more of it lately and it was starting to unsettle her.

"That's mature," Julian muttered under his breath as he entered something into the computer.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

"Did you call Rosenberg?" Tara asked while keeping her eyes on the road. It was her turn behind the wheel. They were going to visit the antique stores near the Civic Center Station, starting with the one nearest to it.

"Yeah, I called her last night." Julian took a glance at his watch. They were nearly fifteen minutes late thanks to Tara, who overslept even though she swore it was accidental. He didn't believe her at all. "She's probably waiting for us." He let out a sigh. It was surely going to be a long day for him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't do it on purpose," Tara said, apologizing once more. "Seriously," she added when Julian shot her an unconvinced look. As much as she dreaded to see Willow this morning, she really didn't mean to have overslept.

When she turned the corner, they saw Willow sitting on the bench outside a flower shop next to a store called Enrique's Antiques. She had let her flowing red hair down, instead of bunching the tresses up into the usual ponytail they were used to seeing. Tara unconsciously swallowed the lump forming at the back of her throat.

"Oh my god," Julian breathed out when he saw her. Tara rolled her eyes at hearing the awe in his voice as she drove the car into the empty parking space in front of her. Willow stood up from the bench when she saw them pulling up, watching as the car came to a stop in the nearest parking space.

"Dr. Rosenberg! I'm so sorry for making you wait," Julian called out as he hopped out of the passenger seat, walking briskly toward the redhead. "Maclay was being kind of a pig this morning." He joked, earning him a rather fierce punch to his upper arm from the aforementioned detective and a glare afterwards.

"It's okay. I didn't wait that long." Willow responded, smiling demurely. She was hesitant about meeting them, especially after the heated encounter with Tara the day before. She regretted the comment she made and had decided to apologize to the brunette in person when the chance presented itself, whether Tara would accept it or not.

An awkward silence befell on the three of them. Tara looked anywhere but in the direction of the medical examiner, while Willow just stared at the ground. Julian looked alternatively between the two women, his hand still rubbing his upper left arm to relieve the throbbing pain caused by his partner's fist. "Shall we?" he asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Tara turned and walked towards the antique store, answering his question by action. Julian smiled at Willow and they followed behind the brunette, walking side by side.

When she opened the door, a high-pitched ring echoed throughout the cramped yet orderly store. The atmosphere inside was glum and the dark-green paint on the walls felt imposing. The smell of mothballs and cinnamon engulfed the air, assaulting the senses of the newly arriving occupants.

"Welcome to Enrique's! Can I help you?" a man in his mid-forties with black, slicked back hair greeted in his thick native tongue as Tara entered and approached him. Julian chivalrously held the door open for Willow before walking up to the front counter.

Tara flashed her badge at the store owner and his warm demeanor faltered slightly. "Can I ask you a few questions?" she asked. The man nodded hesitantly as Julian joined his partner at the counter while Willow walked around the store, scanning for anything in relevance to the case.

"Hey guys, come look at this," Willow called out and beckoned the two detectives to her position before they could start probing the man. She had spotted a series of wicked-looking knives on display in a glass counter toward the rear of the store. All five knives were dark in color but one of them, approximately six inches in length, had a sharp bladed hook.

Tara raised both her eyebrows in astonishment as she looked into the display case. Julian let out a whistle when he saw them. "That's some nasty looking knives you've got there, Enrique. By chance, you sell one to anyone recently?" Julian asked the owner who was still standing behind the counter.

"Yes actually, about a week ago," he said as he walked over to the display case. "It was a set of two, but the customer only wanted the one," he proclaimed as he pointed his finger down on the glass, signaling to the knife with a hooked blade. "Normally, I wouldn't break up the collection, but the times are hard and I needed the money."

"Well, time's about to get harder for you," Tara deadpanned as she shot Enrique an unreadable expression, "I'm confiscating that knife as a part of a homicide investigation."

"What, no, you can't," sputtered the shop keep as he looked from one detective to the next.

"We can, and we are," Tara added, her tone never wavering.

"Listen, Enrique," Julian said, cutting off his partner in an attempt to swiftly alleviate the tension. "We're gonna collect it as evidence and once the case is over, I promise, you'll get it back."

Enrique gave the taller detective an incredulous look, disbelief written on his features, before he nodded his head in understanding. Removing a set of keys from his pocket, Enrique unlocked the display case and retrieved the weapon in question. Gingerly, he presented the knife out in front of him, delicately placing it onto the glass counter.

During the exchange with the shop keep, Willow held her breath, silently willing her body not to fidget due to the close proximity of the brunette detective. Tara was standing with half her body behind the medical examiner, leaning forward a little on her right hand which was placed on the counter by the redhead's hip. She was looming over her, but Tara seemed to be unaware of it. They had never come so close to each other before, their bodies almost touching. She released a shallow breath. Steeling her nerves, Willow reached into her jacket pocket for a zip lock bag and a rubber glove. Snapping the bag open with one hand, she collected the knife as evidence, being sure to avoid the sharp blade as she deposited the weapon into the evidence bag.

"Now, who did you sell it to?" Tara questioned, her eyes skimming over the obsidian blade sheilded by the clear evidence bag before flickering back over to the shop keep.

Disdainfully, the store owner looked up into the detective's cold, unbenevolent eyes before turning away. "Umm … to this guy who performs by the train station. But he hasn't been there in the last few days," Enrique said.

Julian pulled out a photo of Daniel Osbourne from the pocket of his jacket and showed it to the store owner. "Is it this guy?" he asked as he held the picture in the air.

"Nah, this guy is crap," he replied flippantly as he tossed a hand in the air dismissively. "He stole Devon's spot, you know. The guys been there for years and then this kid just swoops in and steals it."

"This Devon guy," Julian said as he placed the picture back in his pocket, "is he the one you sold the knife to?"

"Yeah. I even gave him a discount," Enrique replied in a sing-song manner. Walking the few steps necessary to reach the cash register, Enrique reached under the drawer, producing a thick, maroon logbook. Flipping the ledger open, he scanned through a few pages before finding the one he wanted. Spinning the book around so that the detectives could look at it, he pointed to the handwritten receipt depicting the description of the knife purchased.

Willow rubbed her temples in exasperation at the man's blithe response. Julian shook his head in disbelief while Tara clenched her jaw in frustration.

"What's his full name? This Devon fellow," Tara probed, thoroughly annoyed by his ignorance.

"I'm not sure. He goes by Downtown Devon."

"What does he look like?" Julian questioned as he shifted his gaze from side to side, looking for any signs of video surveillance in the store.

The Spanish man scrunched his eyebrows together as he peered up at the taller detective, approximating him to be about six foot four. "Thin bloke, brown hair, scruffy beard, about your height. "

"Anything else?" Tara drawled out in annoyance, the man's description nearly matching half the population of Los Angeles. "Maybe a bit more specific."

"Umm," Enrique said, deep in thought. "He always wears a leather jacket, there's an embroidered patch of a dog or something on the back. You don't really think he had anything to do with this case you're working do you?"

The detectives exchanged looks with one another, neither bothering to answer the clerk. Narrowing her jaw, her lips perched in a straight line, Tara motioned with her head toward the door. Turning and heading toward the store front, Julian pulled out his phone and began dialing Harris' number. "Thanks for your help," Tara called out over her shoulder as she and Willow followed in suit behind Julian.

"Hey Harris, I need you to do something for me. I need you to ch-"Julian spoke into the phone. "What did you say? I can't hear you, hang on." He made a vague gesture to the two women towards the alley next to the antique store before walking away.

Tara and Willow stood awkwardly beside the black BMW coupe. The former was leaning with her back pressed onto the car door, kicking at the dirt on the floor. The latter stood a few steps away with her hands clasped loosely together in front of her. They were rarely left alone with one another. Julian was always there, acting as a buffer.

Willow passed her teeth through her lower lip, debating internally on whether to seize the opportunity. "I'm sorry." She forced out a few seconds later. Tara looked up and met apologetic green eyes. "About yesterday, I – "

"I don't care." Tara cut her off hastily, putting on a straight face. She looked away from Willow, choosing to look at Julian pacing back and forth in the alley instead, absorbed in his phone conversation. But, she could still see the redhead move closer toward her from her peripheral vision.

Willow frowned in annoyance. The brunette's nonchalance getting on her nerves once more. "Why are you always being like this?" she questioned with a trace of anger in her tone.

"Being like what?" Tara shot back irritably, snapping her head around to look at Willow who now stood only a step away.

"This!" Willow made a waving gesture at Tara. "Acting like you don't care. I'm trying to apologize to you and you won't even give me a damn chance."

Tara opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by Julian." Harris is looking into finding us an address," Julian called out as he approached the two women standing on the sidewalk. Tara turned to look at him with an irked expression while Willow continued to stare straight at her. He instantly sensed the tension when he reached them. "He said he'll call when he finds something. In the meantime, why don't we head to the Civic Station and canvas the area, see if we can locate this Devon guy ourselves."

"Let's go then," Tara said flatly. Without another word, she walked to the driver side of the car, swiftly getting inside the vehicle.

Julian looked to Willow sheepishly due to the brunette's action. "You gonna be okay?" he asked hesitantly.

Willow tore her eyes away from Tara, who was staring straight ahead at the parked car in front of her. "Yeah, I'll be fine," she assured, pursing her lips into a straight line as she gave a forced smile. Lifting the zip-lock bag, she gestured toward the item, "I'm gonna head back to the lab; check to see if we got a positive match. Go."

Julian nodded before jogging around the car to the passenger side and got in. As soon as her partner had settled in, Tara started the engine and drove out of the parking space. He chanced a glance at the side-view mirror to see Willow standing sullenly on the sidewalk as they drove away.

"How long are you two going to keep this up?" Julian finally asked after several minutes of silence. He was growing exasperated by the constantly bickering duo. At the sight of Tara opening her mouth to respond, Julian quickly cut in, not wanting to hear his partners excuse.

"Listen Tara, eventually, Dr. Rosenberg's gonna have had enough of putting up with your bullshit, and leave," Julian said point blank, the thought had been weighing heavy on his mind over the past few months but he never wanted to admit it out loud, until know that is.

"Good," the brunette mumbled under her breath.

"No, not good," he huffed out in annoyance. "She's the best damn medical examiner we've ever had. Dr. Groubert thought so himself, that's why when he retired six months ago he left her in charge."

"There are other M.E.'s that are just as good," retorted Tara as she slapped down on the turn signal toggle harder than necessary.

"Like who?" Questioned Julian, his tone challenging as he glared at his partners profile. "Dr. Brady who doesn't know his head from his ass?"

"He's not that bad," shot back the brunette halfheartedly.

"Not that bad? Not that bad?!" Julian nearly shrieked, a mixture of disbelieve and astonishment lacing his voice. "He cost us the McDougall case by contaminating the evidence. The perp walked on a technicality!"

"What do you want from me Julian," she huffed out, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

"I want you to make nice," he said simply. Off of the brunette's glare, Julian continued. "You don't have to be friends. I'm not asking you to bring her coffee and chat about your personal life, just be professional and maybe show a little bit of respect."

Tara stayed quiet for a long moment, absorbing her partner's words. Finally, she huffed out another lung full of air in defeat. "I'll try. But I'm not promising anything."

"Good, because I swear to God, Tara, if you drive her away, you and I are gonna have words."


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

The search for Devon at the Civic Station came up futile. Every person they spoke to, who were actually willing to speak with them, claimed to not have seen Devon for a few days. Their patrol through the local park was no different. Besides the one homeless man who claimed to have pertinent information, they had come up empty handed. Either people hadn't seen Devon, didn't know of him, or where lying.

After what felt like an eternity, they decided to call it quits.

"Well that's two hours I'm never going to get back," Julian said dryly as he and Tara walked down the basement corridor of the hospital in the direction of the morgue.

"That's all on you," Tara shot back good-naturally. "You could tell the guy was 10-96 before he even opened his mouth. Why did you have to engage in conversation?"

"I was just being polite," the taller of the two proclaimed in exasperation. "I didn't think giving him five minutes of our time would result in a forty minute one sided dialogue on mind control and the assassination of JFK!"

"Good rule of thumb, Julian," Tara said through a reserved smile as she tried not to snicker at her friend, "if they're wearing a tin foil hat and mumbling to themselves about conspiracy theories, chances are, they're not all there in the head."

"Point taken." he replied as he pushed open the double doors to the morgue. "Next time I'll let you take the lead on canvasing."

His attention quickly pulled away from his partner as Julian approached the medical examiner sitting at her desk, his voice chipper as he called out a greeting. "Good afternoon Dr. Rosenberg."

"You got anything for us Red or is this another waist of our time?" Tara asked none too friendly as she followed behind Julian toward the medical examiner; eyeing the slim woman. "We're really busy and don't have time for pointless yammering."

Rolling her eyes skyward at the detective brash approach, Willow replied back dryly as she spun around on her chair to face the sour-faced brunette. "Detective Maclay, good to see you too. But, question, if you're here whose running hades?"

Bug eyed, Julian shot a look at the redhead before twisting his head to the side to look at his partner, noticing her nostrils flaring while her jaw clenched repeatedly. He did several double takes between the two, noticing that they were lock-eyed in a silent standoff. Growing uncomfortable, Julian cleared his throat loudly before Tara had time to rebuttal, "ladies, if we could be civil for a moment that would be great."

Ever so slowly, Willow pulled her eyes away from the blue storm clouds raging inside Tara's irises. "Of course, I'm sorry Julian," Willow replied sweetly as she turned toward the male detective, shooting him a pleasant smile. Shifting her position slightly, Willow reached for the clipboard sitting on her desk. "Here are my findings," she said as she handed the clipboard to the male detective.

Julian scanned the first page swiftly before flipping to the next one, his eyebrows drawn down in contemplation. Chancing a glance toward the redhead, he drew his attention back to the document before pursing his lips together. Looking to his friend, Julian held out the clipboard for the brunette to take, hoping silently that she could make heads or tails of the examination file.

As soon as the clipboard left his hand, a shrill sound of a cell phone alarm rang out in the quite room. Bashfully, Julian reached a hand inside of his blazer removing his phone from the interior pocket. Glancing down at the screen he recognized the precinct phone number. Pressing talk on the device, he brought the phone up to his ear and gave Tara a stern look.

"Wallace, go ahead." Julian replied professionally into the receiver. As the person on the other end of the line spoke, the muscle above Julian's right eye twitched uncontrollably. "Damn phone. Harris …. Harris, is that you?"

Even though he was the only one speaking, Julian raised his free hand to his head, using his index finger to plug his ear to block out noise. "Harris, you're breaking up. Harris … hold on a sec, I'm in the morgue, let me find better reception."

Pulling the phone away from his ear, Julian exchanged looks with Tara before turning his attention to Willow. "Are you going to be okay if I step out for a moment?" he asked the duo skeptically, looking between the two.

"Yes, we don't need a babysitter. We are adults…," Tara said disgruntle as she rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Are you?" Julian shot back sarcastically. Against his better judgement, Julian took a step backward away from the two silently fuming women, his left index finger jutting out to point at his partner. "I'll be back in five minutes, behave yourself."

With that, Julian turned on heel and headed for the exit, his loud voice booming in the hallway as he resumed his conversation with Detective Harris.

The two women stared at each other in disdain for several long moments before Tara finally broke eye contact. Lifting the forgotten clipboard, the brunette began to read over the notes. Just as Julian did, Tara quickly scanned her eyes over the initial page before swiftly flipping through the sheets, her own eyebrows pulling together. After several moments of attempting to read the hand written report, Tara let out a loud, frustrated exhalation before tossing the clipboard back onto the table. "I can barely read your chicken scratch, care to fill me in on what all that medical jargon says?"

"That chicken scratch is cursive," Willow replied pointedly as she snatched the clipboard off of her desk. "You know, something you learn in third grade."

"What's your problem?" Tara barked out gradually.

"My problem?" Willow asked perplexed, her right hand coming up to poke the center of her own chest. "You're the one who has the problem. Would it kill you to politely ask for help or to be polite in general?"

"Probably," Tara shot back smugly, a snarky grin spreading across her face. In her best faux polite voice, "fine, can you please explain to me what you wrote down in your report? There are a lot of fancy, unnecessary words in there."

"Since you put it so politely," Willow retorted mockingly. "I'll even use small words so that you'll be sure to understand"

"Cute," guffed the brunette as she placed her hands on the swell of her hips. "But it's pretty simple, no? Knife, stomach, sever trauma, death. Hey look, I summarized your pretentious report in five words."

"I have neither the time nor the crayons to explain this to you Detective…" proclaimed the medical examiner condescendingly.

"That's it," Tara growled through clenched teeth as she slapped the clipboard out of Willow's hand. "Do you want to go? Give me your best shot," Tara encouraged, egging the redhead on to hit her. "Come on, give it to me."

"Okay," Willow replied nonchalantly as she stood up from her chair. Resting her hands on her hips, she looked up into the brunette's ice cold eyes. "I think you're an arrogant, pigheaded, heartless, narcissistic woman whose immense beauty is over shadowed by an ugly personality. And honestly, I'm surprised you've made it this far in life with a friend still by your side."

Taken aback, unprepared for a verbal attack instead of a physical one, Tara looked at the redhead in shock, her mouth slightly opened. "Did you ... are you insulting me?" she questioned a moment later when the medical examiners words finally sunk in.

"I'm not insulting you," Willow stated firmly as she stood her ground. "I'm describing you."

"You know nothing about me," snarled the detective. The redhead's words hurt, stung even, because Tara knew they were right on the money. She had built up this rough-exterior persona over the years to keep those around her at arm's length. Somehow, Julian was the only person to have ever break through her walls, mainly because he was not only persistent but down right determined to become friends during academy.

"Oh, but I do," shot back the redhead. "You're an insecure, scared little girl who gets her jollies off by cutting down those around you so you can feel better about your miserable existence. You're a bully, who more than likely peeked in high school and becoming a Detective was the only way you could stay relevant. How am I doing?"

Before she could process the movement, Tara was lurching towards her. Scared, Willow shuffled backwards, her feet keeping in time with the Detective's brisk movement until she was flushed with the wall behind her. Startled, Willow flinched as Tara slammed her left palm roughly against the cold wall inches above her shoulder, the detective's outstretched arm blocking the redhead from moving.

Stunned, she looked up into the brunette's hardened expression, noticing her irises were completely dilated. In a menacing whisper, Tara leaned forward, "watch yourself, Rosenberg. You're skating on thin ice."

"And if I don't" Willow responded daringly, her own face shifting forward slightly as she stood her ground. "What are you going to do about it? Hit me?"

"Worse. I'll make your life a living hell, "she proclaimed; her nose inches from the medical examiner, as her breath tickled against the redhead's lips.

"Like you haven't already," recanted the redhead. "I loathe working on cases with you."

"Feelings mutual sweetheart," rebutted the brunette, her words were menacing but her tone was anything but. "When I see you, I ..." Tara faltered, she wasn't sure how to proceed. She knew what she should say, something witty and cutting to keep up the allure of her aloof no-nonsense demeanor. But a part of her, the rational side of her brain, was berating her, screaming at her to tell the truth. For once in your life be open and honest about your feelings.

"I just ... you make me ..." She opened and closed her mouth several time, her breathing heavy as she tried to formulate a coherent sentence. She wasn't sure what her next move was. All she was sure about was the unfamiliar feeling swirling around in her stomach from being so close to the medical examiner.

"Make you what?" questioned the redhead, her breathing labored.

"You... you make me..." Tara tried again, her words slowing as she stared straight into the pathologists hunter green eyes, noticing the pupils dialating.

Willow's darkened emerald eyes suddenly shifted rapidly, back and forth from the brunette's alluring stormy blue eyes to her slightly parted lips merely inches away from her own. In baited breath, "are you going to kiss me, or not,"

Tara licked her lips subconsciously as she peered into the medical examiners eyes. Slowly, she lifted her right hand to grip the neckline of the pathologist scrubs, a gesture meant to pull the redhead closer.

"Maclay, what the hell are you doing?!" hollered Julian as he came back into the morgue, his eyes wide in fright as he viewed his partner's threatening stance. "Let go of her!"

Shocked at being caught in such a compromising position, Tara jumped backwards, her eyes shifting embarrassingly from the redhead to her fuming partner.

"Julian, I …" she didn't get a chance to finish as Julian marched toward her, gripping her elbow tightly.

"Let's go," Julian snarled as he roughly shoved the brunette toward the door. He stood in place momentarily watching his partner disappear through the double doors before turning to Willow. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"

"N-no …. No, I'm fine," Willow stammered as she lifted her hand to her mouth, silently processing what had just transpired. What would've transpired if Julian hadn't interrupted.

"I'm so sorry Doctor Rosenberg," Julian apologized wholeheartedly. In all of his time as Tara's partner, he had never known her to be physically aggressive towards someone who wasn't a perp. He gave the pathologist a weak smile, guilt washing over him for leaving the two alone together.

He waited for a response but when none was forth coming, he gave the woman a slight node before heading for the exit.

"Are you insane?" Julian hollered down the hall, his loud voice booming off the cement walls. "Or are you trying to get fired?"

"You're over reacting Julian," Tara proclaimed as she turned around to stare at her partner. "Nothing happened."

"Nothing happened," he snarled, his face reddening further as he marched down the hallway, his temper flaring "You had her pinned against the wall with your fist gripping her shirt. That's not nothing."

"It's not what you think, really." Tara felt torn. She wanted to tell her best friend that he caught them seconds before making out, that there hostility toward each other was actually months upon months of pent up sexual frustration and that Willow was in no way being harmed. But she couldn't. She didn't want to hurt him.

"What I think is that you were a second away from physically assaulting our medical examiner." He eyed the brunette darkly, daring her to speak. "If she files a complaint ..."

"She won't," Tara mumbled.

"How can you be so sure? Not like you guys are on the best of terms."

"I just do."

"Well, I'm not as optimistic as you I guess." He gave her a disbelieving shake of the head. "If this goes to IA, if they ask me what I saw ... I can't lie for you Maclay."

Julian was done standing in the constricted hallway. He needed out. He needed to distance himself from his partner. Without another word, he walked away, leaving the brunette to trail behind him at a more sedate pace.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER

Two Days Later:

"LAPD! Open the door!" Tara yelled, banging fiercely on the door of the apartment of their primary suspect, Devon MacLeish. Harris' investigation into the sidewalk performer came back with not only an address but an extensive list of criminal charges. The offenses ranged from simple trespassing and shoplifting to more sever charges of resisting arrest and battery on an officer. Due to the suspect's history, Lt. Gordon had demanded a couple of police officers go with the two detectives as back-up.

It was complete silence until they heard the sound of glass shattering emitted from the other side of the door. Tara and Julian looked at each other for a second before simultaneously drawing out their handguns from their holsters in one swift motion.

Julian gave a nod to one of the officers, who kicked the door open. They carefully stepped into the apartment with their guns aiming. A movement in the corner of the room caught Tara's attention. "He's climbing down the fire escape!" she shouted as she slid her gun back into its holder.

Before any of her three companions could respond, Tara was already chasing after the suspect, squeezing herself through the open window and rushed down the fire escape.

"Call for back-up," Julian ordered the officers. He turned and ran out of the apartment, taking a different route of pursuit.

Tara ran down the metal steps of the fire escape as quickly as she could. She was on auto-pilot, her body coursing with adrenaline. She could see Devon MacLeish down below her about a few flights of stairs away. When she saw that he had nearly reached the ground, she stopped for a very brief moment. She looked around, thinking of the best option. Her eyes caught a closed-lid dumpster beneath. Without a second thought, she took half a step back, gripped the ledge and swung her legs over it. She could feel her heart in her mouth as she plummeted two stories down.

Tara landed on her back first, the force of the fall denting the metal lid of the dumpster before she tumbled onto the ground. Her breath got stuck in her throat as she wheezed helplessly in an effort to suck in air. Wincing in pain, Tara managed to squeak out a distressed, "Owww, fuck!" as she rolled around on the grim littered floor, her left hand clutching her right shoulder. With adrenaline still coursing through her body, she lifted her head up and noticed Devon was looking at her in shock. He stood dumbfounded for a while before he sprinted away as soon as he heard the distant sound of sirens. Tara gritted her teeth and pushed herself off the ground, resuming the chase once again.

Devon ran down the street, pushing away whoever was in his path of escape. "Police! Get out of the way!" Tara yelled as she pushed her way through the crowd, only a few innocent bystanders reacting quick enough to not get plowed over. She couldn't care less if it was an old lady or a little kid she pushed out of her way, she had her sights set on the target and she was determined to take him down. Devon dashed across the road and carried on with his getaway on the next street.

Without looking, Tara dashed across the street, the sounds of tires squealing assaulting her ears. A taxi driver slammed on the brakes of his cab just in time when he noticed the brunette about to run in front of his vehicle. Instead of stopping in her tracks, Tara used her momentum to lift herself up onto the hood of the cab and slithered off it. None of her pace was lost as she landed on the other side of the road, continuing her pursue. She felt as if she was floating on air, watching the whole scene unfold. Her legs carried her faster than her mind could catch up.

Devon turned his head back to steal a glimpse of his chaser's position. It turned out to be a bad move as he crashed right into a fruit cart that had just been wheeled out from a store. People on the street nearby shrieked and jumped back instinctively as the wooden cart smashed into pieces from the man's powerful impact. As an assortment of fruits flew into the air in all directions, Devon let out a painful groan. He laboriously got to his feet and hobbled off hurriedly. He was able to get a few feet away from the ruckus before being tackled to the ground, the brunette spearing him to the cobblestone-covered pavement like an NFL linebacker

He struggled around, limbs flailing in a desperate attempt to throw the detective off of him. His efforts were quickly brought to an end when an elbow whacked across his face, rendering him unconscious. Tara flipped her perp onto his front before bringing his hands behind his back and cuffing them together. She was straddling his lower back, too tired to move off of him as her chest heaved. She slumped a little on the lifeless body as exhaustion set in, her adrenaline rush subsiding.

"Are you nuts? You nearly killed yourself back there!" Julian yelled as he slid to a halt next to his partner, a few police officers in tow as they finally caught up to the heavily breathing brunette. He had been rushing behind Tara when she had almost been hit by the cab. Grabbing his partner by her upper arms, Julian gingerly helped the brunette to her feet. Guiding Tara away from the suspect's prone body, Julian made room for the other officers to hoist Devon off the ground and drag him away to an awaiting LAPD cruiser.

Tara was still panting heavily as Julian guided her toward the nearest store front, positioning her back against the brick wall. Trying to catch her breath, her heart still hammering profusely in her chest, Tara placed her arms on her knees as she leaned forward. "I'm also a nut-job that caught the guy," she replied breathlessly as she lifted herself back up. "I think I can live with that."

"Please don't ever do that again. Ever" Julian pulled her into a hug, letting out a relieved sigh. At the sensation of the brunette tensing in his arms, Julian pulled back instantly, catching the tail-end of a grimace washing over Tara's face.

"You okay? Where are you hurt?" Julian asked in quick succession as concern took over him. Tara pointed to her right shoulder, her features scrunching together in agony. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, she was starting to feel the full effect of the injury. Her whole body was also beginning to ache from the two story free-fall earlier. She knew she was very lucky to get away with just an injured shoulder and full-body ache.

"Let's get you to the hospital," Julian said. He wrapped his arm protectively around Tara and led her back to the car.

888

Tara sat on a bed in the ER at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, with her right arm in a sling. The x-ray showed a lateral sprain and her doctors examination uncovered several minor lacerations on her upper torso, all of which were bandaged. As she sat in the bleak room that smelled of antiseptic, her mood sour from the long intake procedure, she waited impatiently for Julian to finish up with the discharge papers at the nurses station.

Restlessly, she fiddled with a stray string dangling off of the sling absentmindedly as she stared blankly at the tiled floor. "Heard you caught the guy. Congratulations." A familiar voice jolted her out of her dazing.

She snapped her head to the side and saw Willow standing at the foot of the bed, her face unreadable.

"Yeah," Tara let out softly before dropping her gaze back to the ground.

Willow moved slowly from her position to stand beside Tara, but kept a small distance between them. "So, how are you feeling? I see you've got that sling around your arm." She asked tentatively as she pointed to the aforementioned item. She mentally braced herself for any witticism from the standoffish detective. Or maybe even backlash from their near kiss encounter several days ago.

Tara felt butterflies flutter around in her stomach at the concern. She could feel her cheeks slowly heating. Her eyebrows pinched together as confusion washed over her at the feelings fluttering around inside of her. The same fluttering she felt in the morgue; pressed up against the redhead. Another flutter erupted through her, starting in her stomach and rushing upward as she recalled nearly kissing Willow. Her heart thudding in time with the cold shiver that rushed down her spine.

"Oh my god, what was that!" she exclaimed in a mix of horror and disbelief, leaping off of the bed in the process. Willow jumped back a couple of steps in shock at the sudden action and exclamation from Tara. The whole ER seemed to cease its activities at the brunette's loud outburst.

"What was what?" Julian asked as he flung the dividing curtain back, approaching Tara's bed in the process. He looked in bafflement at Tara's horrified expression and Willow's startled one. "Is everything okay?" he questioned again when neither of them answered. A sense of dread washed over him at seeing the medical examiner, her face unreadable as she stared at the injured detective. His mind instantly went on overdrive, speculating the worst. Dr. Rosenberg was filling a harassment complaint … a hostile workplace grievance …. a protection order.

"Yeah … yeah." Tara said slowly as she shook herself out of her stupor. Impatiently she asked, "Can we go now?" She needed to get the hell out of the OR and more so away from Willow. She headed for the exit hurriedly, not waiting for Julian's response.

Julian turned to look at Willow inquisitively. Silently hoping she would answer his unasked questions. She gave him a shrug in return, not quite sure what just happened herself.

"What are you doing here?" Julian asked perplexed before quickly amending himself for his brash questioning. "Not that you can't be here or anything. Just … you know, with everything that's happened …. Plus, I thought you were stationed out of UCLA."

"I am," Willow said, smiling reassuringly at the lanky, dusty haired brunette. "I'm just filing in for Dr. Ferguson while he's out on vacation. I heard your names through chatter in the halls and wanted to check in, see if you guys were okay."

"Oh," Julian said sheepishly as he ran his fingers through his hair. A small blush made its way up his neck, spreading to his ears. "That's really nice of you. I'm good. Tara took a nasty spill … well, fall really, but she's fine."

"I'm glad you're both okay," she said honestly, glad that the gossip from the nurses in the hallway hadn't been as bad as she originally perceived.

"Thank you," Julian replied, a cheeky smile gracing his lips. "Umm, I wish I could stay and chat longer but Tara's got the car keys and with the amount of painkillers they pumped into her she really shouldn't be driving."

"Oh, yes, yes of course," she sputtered out as she watched Julian hitch a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his partner. "I'll see you around."

As Julian exited the hospital, he cranked his head from left to right, searching for his partner. Tara paced around the parking lot a few yards away from the ER, mumbling to herself. Her mind was running out of control and she reflexively ran her left hand through her hair. She wondered whether she had imagined those feelings or if they were a side effect of the morphine she had been administered; but she knew the answer without a doubt. If she was being honest with herself, she'd known all along. _God, this isn't happening. I like Rosenberg?_


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER

"Detectives, good work on the Osbourne case," Lt. Gordon commended when she reached their desk.

"Thanks, Lieutenant. It's not just us two, though. Dr. Rosenberg was a great help as always," Julian replied, smiling as he thought of Willow. "And I'm sure my partner would agree as well. Don't you, Maclay?" he asked.

Across the desk, Tara was in a daze. She was lost in thought, thinking about that same redheaded medical examiner. A couple of days had passed since the 'incident' at the hospital and she had been trying to deal with the realization behind her newfound feelings. It's a fine line between love and hate. She had crossed that line, unknowingly. The dark circles under her eyes were the sign of her sleeplessness, having tossed and tuned in bed during the past few nights before slipping into restless slumbers.

"Hey, Maclay!" Julian shouted, giving her a playful kick under the desk. That was the umpteenth time in the past days he had caught her daydreaming.

"What was that for?" Tara asked, frowning in annoyance.

"Am I right?" Julian asked again. "About Dr. Rosenberg," he asked after Tara gave him a puzzled look.

Tara froze up instantly at the mentioning of Willow. [i]Oh shit, how the hell did he know?[/i] She was panicking internally even though her face told an entirely different story. Her composed façade faltered when she began to speak. "No! I – wha- wh- why would you ask that?" she questioned, tripping over her own tongue.

Both Julian and Lt. Gordon frowned at the strange response. "You don't agree that Dr. Rosenberg was a great asset to the case?" the later asked in bewilderment.

"Huh? What?" Tara's mind blanked for a brief second before she realized that she was acting on a guilty conscience. Recovering somewhat, "Of course not. I mean … I mean, yes, I agree with … wait, no. I disag… Wh…what was the question again?" A sheepish expression crept up to her features as soon as she finished. Julian watched on in amusement.

"Are you okay there, Detective Maclay?" Lt. Gordon asked in concern at the display of uncharacteristic behavior from the brunette. Not trusting her speech at the moment, Tara nodded.

"I think she needs to slow down on her intake of pain medication. She's probably just high," Julian joked while trying to contain his laughter. Tara narrowed her eyes at him threateningly.

"Yeah, well, good work anyways." Lt. Gordon highlighted again. She eyed Tara suspiciously for a while before walking away.

"What is wrong with you?" Julian asked in a mix of curiosity and concern, "you've been acting strange."

Tara released a defeated sign, "I wish I knew."

888

Willow stood hesitantly at the entrance to the DHI office with a beach file and slider storage bag in her hands. She was at the precinct to drop off the post-mortem report and evidence she found in the victim's body for the detectives so that they could add it to their statement of charges.

Tara was alone at the desk with Julian nowhere to be seen. The chestnut haired detective had been less than receptive of her vague attempts at friendliness. She even shot down her apology once before. Now adding to the mixture was their emotionally straining encounter in the morgue and the brunettes avoidance at the hospital. Willow bit her lower lip, finally deciding to get the hostile encounter over and done with.

She strode over to the desk, looking as self-assured as possible. "Hey," she greeted cautiously.

Tara had managed to get a certain redheaded medical examiner out of her mind for the past few hours or so by immersing herself in work. So, when Willow seemingly appeared out of nowhere, she was completely caught off guard. She jumped in her seat, bumping her sling arm into the desk in the process. She hissed in pain while clutching her sprained shoulder, her face scrunching in agony.

Willow set down the possessions clutched in her hands immediately. She then stepped forward to place a comforting hand on Tara's upper arm with the other carefully holding her bent right arm. "God, are you okay?" She asked quickly, her caring nature taking over.

Tara opened her eyes when she felt hands on her. Willow was leaning close. To her, it was as if this was the very first time she was seeing the medical examiner for who she really was. The beautiful delicate features, the heavenly saccharine scent, the tender touches and the warmth radiating from her were all too much. She needed desperately to take a deep breath, but Willow's scent was thick in the air.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Tara answered through gritted teeth. She grimaced at the throbbing pain and slouched a little into her seat as subtly as possible to create some space between them. She could hear her heart thumping and wondered if Willow could hear it too.

Willow noticed the subtle action and took it as a sign for her to back off, quickly withdrawing her hands and taking a few steps back away from Tara. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

Tara was feeling every bit of the disappointment when Willow removed her hands and moved away. That was the absolute opposite of what she wanted. She clenched her jaw in frustration and ran her good hand through her hair. "It's okay. What did you want?" she asked, her frustration inadvertently slipping into her tone of voice.

Willow was not at all surprised by the tenor showed. [i]So much for caring.[/i] She let out a breath, her expression hardening. "Nothing. I'm just here to give you these." She picked up the file and zipper bag from the desk, handing them both to the blonde detective.

Tara held out her good hand and took the items from the medical examiner. Their fingers grazed each other's for a brief second, sending a wave of electricity coursing throughout their entire body. The sudden contact caused them both to pull their hands back instantly. They stared at one another in shock. Papers dropped out from the file as it hit the ground.

Willow was the first to recover, bending down to gather up the papers. Tara followed a few seconds later, getting out of her seat and helping rather clumsily with only one hand.

"It's okay, I got it." Willow assured with a small smile when she saw Tara struggling. Tara blushed in embarrassment. She stood up and turned her head away to hide her flushed cheeks. She wasn't sure if it was a reaction to the smile or the fact that she was caught acting ineptly.

"Here." Tara turned back to the voice and took the things from Willow, who held the folder out for her. She made sure there was no contact whatsoever this time around. She could only handle so much.

Willow lingered for a while longer before walking away. When she stepped out of the office, she passed a hand over her face. She could feel the last six months' worth of tension between her and Tara reaching a breaking point, but what frightened her the most, or maybe exhilarated her, was that it wasn't going to happen in the way she had originally though it would. And that made her heart pound even faster.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter : One week later: Saturday

"What did this guy do for a living again?" Tara asked as they stepped into a luxurious house in an affluent neighborhood. She moved her sunglasses up onto her head to get a clearer look around.

"He was an investment banker," Julian replied flatly. "I don't get these people. How they justify spending an exponential amount of money on all this crap." He added, spreading out his arms in a gesture to the surrounding household items. The interior was furnished with high-priced modern furniture as well as priceless antiques.

"If I had money to blow, I'd buy expensive crap too." Tara pointed out.

They climbed the stairway up to the second floor where the body had been found inside the master bedroom by the maid. They entered the bedroom which was equally well-furnished as the rest of the house. As usual, investigators from the crime lab and evidence collection unit were looking around as they searched the home for evidence while a road officer questioned the maid.

The body lay stiff a few feet away from the king size bed, a pair of gray flannel boxers the only article of clothing on his body. White foam dribbled out from the corner of the victim's mouth, his arms and legs sprawled out while blood shot eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling. There was a gash on the male's forehead where a trail of dried blood had trickled down to his temple. Strewn about the room were various empty bottles of liquor and several condom wrappers. A white powder residue was also noticeable on the night stand as well as a rolled dollar bill and a credit card, all of which ECU was snapping several pictures of.

Walking across the cream colored shagged rug, the detectives crossed over to Willow who was thoroughly examining the body. Tara's heart fluttered at the sight of the slim medical examiner, a feeling that she was still trying to get used to.

Tara was approaching from behind when Willow suddenly stood up and turned around, bumping right into her. At the feeling of the slimmer woman pressed up against her chest, Tara jumped back a step instinctively.

"Oh God," Willow breathed out, placing a gloved-hand over her racing heart. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath to calm her nerves down. "I'm sorry," she apologized as she opened her eyes, finding Tara staring down at her. As soon as the words left her mouth, she braced herself for a much anticipated telling off.

"It's okay," Tara responded, shrugging the incident off. The casual response earned her a stunned look from both Willow and Julian.

"Ah … I left something I need back in the car. Excuse me," Willow said after blinking away her surprise. Tara simply nodded and pivoted, allowing the redhead to sidestep around her. Tara watched on as Willow walked out of the bedroom, her internal turmoil wagging war.

"It's okay?" Julian asked incredulously, his facial expression matching the disbelief in his voice.

"It's just a bump. No big deal," Tara replied nonchalantly, turning her back to the other detective.

"No big deal? The last time she bumped into you, you told her to grow a pair of eyes," Julian rejoined. He remembered how angry the comment made Willow, the redhead staring daggers through her prescription eyewear at the silky haired brunette. That eventually developed into one of the most heated encounters between them to date and to Julian's recollection, the last time he saw the pathologist with glasses.

"What?" Tara squealed. "I did _not_ say that." She frowned in thought as she tried to recall that particular incident. Now that she had realized her feelings for Willow, she was finding it hard to even imagine all the hurtful things she had said to her before.

"Oh yes, you did," Julian nodded dramatically. Tara was about to respond but decided against it when she saw Willow walking back into the bedroom from the corner of her eye.

Willow took a glance at Tara as she walked past her. She could feel there was something very different about the other woman's behavior. The air around her seemed more relaxed and the way she looked at her appeared to have softened considerably. The random shift in behavior was definitely getting under Willow's skin.

She kneeled down next to the body and measured its core temperature with a special thermometer she had just retrieved from her vehicle.

"So, Dr. Rosenberg, you got anything for us?" Tara asked, her voice shaking slightly. She was feeling nervous just talking to the redhead.

"Well, body temperature and the state of rigor mortis indicate that the victim's been dead for at least five hours. That puts the time of death somewhere between two and four o'clock in the morning," Willow answered as she read the scale on the thermometer. "No visible physical trauma except for the laceration on his forehead. Probably hit his head on the nightstand as he collapsed." She gestured toward the red splodge on the edge of the nightstand in front of her. "Most likely cause of death is alcohol poisoning or overdose … or a combination of the two. I'll know more after I perform the autopsy."

"Thanks," Tara said, earning her another round of stunned stares from Willow and Julian. She turned her head away slightly from the attention, scratching the back of her neck with her left hand.

888

"_Thanks_?" Julian asked for the third time, mimicking the tone she had used earlier. He tried to keep his attention fixed on the road in front of them as he navigated their way back to the precinct, but his mind kept looping back to the bizarre encounter at the crime scene.

"Can you stop that?" Tara questioned annoyingly.

"_Thanks_? I mean, what's up with that? You've never said thanks to Dr. Rosenberg before. _Ever_," Julian continued, ignoring Tara completely. He was stumped by his partner's sudden niceness to the person she had claimed to detest the most. "Even when she helped us crack-"

"I thought you've always wanted me to be nice to her. Now that I actually am, you are all over me. And might I add, in a _really_ annoying way." Tara interrupted, shooting Julian an irritated look. She couldn't possibly tell her best friend the truth that she was having a crush on his crush. That broke the bro-code in so many ways.

"I did! But now that you're actually doing it, it seems kinda … creepy." Julian replied sheepishly as he shrugged his shoulders. Tara gave him a smack to the side of his head in response, causing him to lose control of the car for a brief second.

"Oww!" He took one hand off the steering wheel after guiding the car back into the correct lane, placing it on the side of his head. "Do you want to get into a car accident?" Julian barked.

"Sorry," Tara mumbled. She pouted as she wondered if Willow had thought that she was creepy too.

She reached out her hand to Julian and he flinched immediately. "Relax, I'm not going to hit you," she assured, batting his hand away from his head. She replaced it with her own, rubbing the area on his skull that she had smacked. "So what, you don't want me to be nice to her?"

"Yeah," Julian answered. Tara ceased her hand movement, staring incredulously at him, causing the dark haired man to skirt away from the contact. "Okay, you need to get your hand away from me." He added, fearing a reoccurrence of the beating. He felt safe enough to continue when Tara retracted her hand. "It just seems to me that you are suppressing your feelings. I fear for humanity when the two of you finally go at each other and explode."

In her mind, Tara had an entirely different take on the scenario of an explosion with Willow. She could feel her cheeks starting to burn at the thought. She shook it off quickly before the images got even more explicit.

"I guess I'm just tired of the squabbling."

"Yeah, either that or your fall did more damage than we realized," he jested, a cheeky grin spreading across his lips as he tapped a finger against his temple.

Tara let out a forced laugh at her friend's ill-timed joke. "From now on, I'm just gonna take her as she comes." Tara paused after realizing what she had just implied.

This time, her mind was powerless to the onslaught of explicit images. She struggled to banish them from her head. Her body's temperature was rising significantly as her breathing became labored. She cranked the window open slightly, relishing in the cool air rushing into the car as she stared blankly ahead of her with her attention focused solely on her R-rated thoughts.

Julian nodded thoughtfully as he drove into an empty parking space outside of the precinct, oblivious to the mental 'distress' his partner was undergoing next to him.


	10. Chapter 10

Tuesday

"You're not going?" Tara almost exclaimed.

"I'll meet you afterwards. You know how it is with Joey. He's always getting into trouble at school," Julian explained as he put on his blazer. He had just received a call from his kid brother's principal after he got into another fight. His sixth one since the new school year started in half as many months.

"But I'm gonna be alone with Rosenberg," she whined, her attitude not unlike that of a toddler throwing a fit; just shy of a foot stop and crossed arms. Tara wasn't sure if she was ready to handle facing Willow alone. Over the past several days, the detective found herself quite often having sexual daydreams about the redheaded pathologist, the latest one occurring just a couple of hours ago which she still hadn't quite worked off yet.

"I know you hate it, but you said you wanna try to patch things up with her. This could be a good opportunity to do just that," Julian replied as he grabbed his personal belongings off his desk. "Just be nice … Not creepy." He scampered off quickly, narrowly dodging a pencil Tara threw after him.

Tara groaned in frustration, for more reasons than one. After spending more than twenty minutes psyching herself up, she pushed herself off her seat and strode doggedly toward the office door with her car keys in hand. I can do this.

888

I can't do this. Tara stood outside the morgue of UCLA Medical Center, staring blankly at its double-door. She had been standing there for quite a while now and was already earning odd looks from passersby. Too absorbed in her own mind to pay any attention to her surroundings, Tara stood motionless as she listened to the sound of her heart pounding like drums in her ears.

She ran her left hand through her hair, debating internally on whether she should wait for Julian even though he might not be back for another couple of hours. The thought of delaying a murder investigation, on the other hand, wasn't appealing. Tara clutched onto that thought in her mind like a lifeline as she pushed open the double-doors and stepped into the morgue. She only managed one single step into the frigid room before she chickened out at the very last second. Her sudden halt in movement resulted in the heavy double-doors swinging right back at her, knocking her backward into the hall.

Willow raised her head from her microscope when the doors swung open, the whooshing sound catching her attention in the silent room. She caught a glimpse of a familiar figure before it disappeared behind the door. Her facial expression was one mixed with amusement and bafflement as she heard muffled cussing from the other side of the doors. She continued staring at the entrance as she waited for the woman to reappear.

Tara cursed under her breath at the throbbing pain in her right shoulder. Reaching up to grab her injured appendage, she continued to murmur vulgarity as she chided herself for behaving like an idiot. She took a moment to compose herself before entering the morgue again. Tara was ready this time as the swift moving door swung back at her, her good arm shooting out to stop the movement. When she saw Willow staring at her, she looked like a deer caught in headlights before ducking her head in embarrassment.

"Where's Detective Wallace?" Willow asked curiously, her auburn eyebrows turning upward.

The question barely registered in Tara's mind. She was thinking about how adorable Willow looked in her glasses and yellow scrubs, something that she had failed to appreciate a hundred times before she had crudely insulted the pathologist; resulting in the disappearance of her eyewear. Her heart was pumping warm blood rapidly throughout her body, which only served to aggravate the situation. She wriggled slightly in her clothes, her dark grey cotton t-shirt unpleasantly sticking to her skin.

"He, ah …" she had to clear her throat to remove the lump of air that was caught before she could continue. "He has some personal business to deal with," she said as she began to walk further into the morgue.

"So, it's just the two of us." The notion seemed more real to Willow now that she had said it out loud. The last time they had been left alone in the morgue resulted in a heated battle of insults followed by the redhead basically professing her desire for the brunette to kiss her. She looked away from the detective and back to the open body she had been examining, suddenly overwhelmed by nervousness. She took in a deep breath to settle her nerves as she tried to focus her attention back on her job. Grabbing the deceased man's wrist, Willow lifted the bluing appendage as she carefully did a nail scrapping, placing the dirt and skin follicles on a slide.

Tara stood on the opposite side of the metal table, in front of Willow, the body currently under autopsy the only thing separating them. She grimaced as she finally took in the sight of the bloody body lying prone on the metal slab. The body was cut open, revealing the mess of internal organs within and the top of the victim's head was removed to expose his brain. She was use to death; saw deceased bodies almost daily, but the sight of a human being sliced open on display seemed to never get easier.

"Did you find anything?" she asked softly.

The softness of her voice gave Willow shivers down her spine, in an oddly pleasurable way. She couldn't help but notice that Tara was making an effort to be nice even though it did seem a little peculiar. In a way though, she was relieved. For the past week she had had a sinking feeling in her stomach. That maybe she had overstepped a personal boundary; that she had misread the situation and unsettled the brunette with what she said. Now though, she wasn't sure, she felt like the brunette was throwing out a bunch of mixed signals.

"Erm, I ran a tox-screen," Willow went over to her desk to get the results, quickly passing the file to Tara. "It showed that the victim had a high level of alcohol, MDMA, cocaine and Restoril in his system. There was also internal hemorrhaging in his brain, which is the primary cause of death. The victim probably subcomed to a seizure due to the combination of drugs and alcohol and hit his head on the nightstand as he fell.

"So this was just an unfortunate accident?" Tara asked with slight disbelief.

"Could be. It's not uncommon for someone to pass away after doing a speedball." Willow replied. "However, based on the amount of Restoril in his system, it's slightly suspicious. I would say someone tried to poison him. It's worth looking into," Willow answered, offering her professional opinion. She studied Tara as she read the results of the tox-screen. She smiled a little when Tara furrowed her eyebrows at something profound on the paper. Without the lackadaisical attitude, she was certainly not bad company to be around. They had gotten off on the wrong foot, something she felt slightly responsible for, and things had unwittingly escalated from then on.

"Anything else?" Tara asked as she leafed through the report, the vast majority of which was lost on her.

"Glitter," Willow said simply.

Flipping the report back to the first page, Tara looked up quizzically at the doctor. "Glitter?"

"Yeah, it's um …" Smiling bashfully, Willow decided it was better to show the detective what she meant rather than tell her verbally.

Reaching for a small towel covering the victim's genitalia, Willow removed the sheet, revealing gold glitter in the man's pubic hair.

"Oh," Tara said lost for words as she looked at the sight before her.

Bringing the sheet back up, Willow repositioned the towel back into place to provide a semblance of modesty to the body. "I also did a genital swabbing to check for saliva and other bodily fluids and am conducting a nail scrapping now. The results, if any, should be back within 48 hours. I'll let you know."

Tara nodded thoughtfully. "Thanks," she said, giving a polite smile afterwards. When the smile was returned in kind, she dropped her head to hide her reddening cheeks behind a curtain of hair. The physical reactions that Willow managed to bring forth in her with simple gestures were unbelievable. It seemed like a lifetime ago when she was fighting with the very same person. She suddenly realized she had by no means apologized to Willow.

"I'm sorry." They said simultaneously, staring at one another for a few seconds before laughing in embarrassment.

Tara kept her eyes locked on Willow, admiring the way her delicate face brightened up and her emerald eyes twinkled when she laughed. She was absolutely beautiful in every single way.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you," Tara spoke once the laughter died down.

"Which time?" Willow asked teasingly.

"The first time," Tara said with a chuckle. "It only got worse from there."

"Does that mean you apologize for anything that happened after?" Willow questioned slyly, arching an eyebrow in suggestion.

"Don't push it." Tara narrowed her eyes playfully at Willow, who laughed in response.

"Okay, I might have also been less than amiable with you since we've known each other. And for that, I'm sorry," Willow replied while trying to keep a straight face.

"Might?" Tara repeated in a tone of mock disbelief.

"Actually … I felt really bad for what I said the last time you were here," Willow continued in a soft voice. Her cheery expression was replaced by one of remorse. She lowered her head and started playing with a frayed string on the chest pocket of her scrubs. "About everything I said."

Everything? She had been in a tailspin ever since Willow broached the subject of kissing. It didn't take long afterward for her to realize she was attracted to the medical examiner, but when Willow never broached the subject upon their next meeting at the hospital, she felt it best to drop the matter entirely. She hadn't been sure if Willow felt the same way or if she had just got caught up in the heat of the moment. It was clear to her now that it was the latter.

Even though she was disappointed, Tara's heart almost broke at seeing the vulnerability shown by the redhead. "Hey," she called out quietly, waiting for Willow to look up before carrying on. "It's alright. I'm not angry. Well, maybe a little," she admitted after Willow gave her a skeptical look. "But not anymore."

"Thanks," Willow replied demurely as she smiled gratefully. She was seeing Tara in a whole new light. Picturing the gentleness behind her tough façade once seemed impossible, but now it appeared to be the most natural thing in the world. Maybe something good came out of the fight after all. It seemed like they were finally airing out all of their grievances.

"There is one thing though that I've been wanting to ask … how did you know?" Tara asked hesitantly, fearing the answer.

"Know what?"

"That I ... you said it wasn't the first time a women's thrown me out," Tara said sheepishly with a one shoulder shrug.

Willow scratched her temple, contemplating the way to reveal the incident without embarrassing Tara. "I think it was just after the case of Vera Foster. I saw … I had just stepped out of my apartment and I sort of saw you get thrown out into the hallway by my neighbor. So I just assumed…"

"Oh god." Tara covered her eyes with her good hand, too humiliated to look at Willow. The worst part was that she didn't even remember.

"That was actually quite a while ago," Willow replied, feeling a pang of sympathy for the embarrassed detective. "Let's just put everything behind us and start over, shall we?" she asked.

Tara stared at her inquisitively, wondering what the redhead had in mind.

Willow smiled sweetly as she removed the gloves from her hands; rubbing her right palm on the thigh of her scrub before sticking her hand out toward the brunette. "Nice to meet you. I'm Dr. Willow Rosenberg."


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER: Wednesday

"Hey, how's Joey?" Tara asked in concern once Julian reached their desk, having taken the remainder of the day off yesterday to attend to his delinquent brother.

He heaved a heavy sigh as he plopped down into his chair. "He got suspended for a week."

"Ouch," Tara proclaimed as she winced up her face.

"And that wasn't even the worst part," Julian said as he rubbed the palm of his hand over his eyes. "I had to get Karen to babysit him every night until his father gets off work."

"Wait. Do you mean Karen, as in your creepy and totally-obsessed-with-you landlord, Karen?" Tara burst into laughter as soon as Julian nodded. He tried silencing her with a glare, but to no avail. She continued to laugh uncontrollably, her arms wrapping around her lower torso as the muscles in her stomach started to cramp.

"Laugh all you want, since I assume your visit with Dr. Rosenberg didn't go very well." He had a self-satisfied smirk on his face when the laughter from the other side of the desk died out.

The cheeky smile on Julian's face slowly dissipated as he watched his friend smile adoringly, the mirth from earlier forgotten. "Actually, it went very well." The tables were now turned, with Tara spotting a self-satisfied smirk.

"Seriously?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh yeah, we made peace," Tara replied contentedly. She smiled as she thought back to the encounter. She could still remember the feel of Willow's soft delicate skin when she took her outstretch hand. The tidal wave of emotions that surged throughout her from that mere touch was absolutely exhilarating.

"Seriously?" Julian asked again, doubling the disbelief in his voice. "How'd you manage that?"

"We just ... we decided to start over. You know, clean slate."

"Wow, this is unexpected." Julian admitted in astonishment. "I never thought I'd live to see the day."

"Well, you did. Let's go. We're going banking," Tara said in mock excitement, standing up and gathering her belongings together.

"Can't you at least wait till my small fragile brain completely processes the bomb you just dropped on me," Julian said as he let out a tired breath.

"I could. But what torture would that be to you?" Tara smiled mischievously at him before walking toward the door with a skip in her step.

888

They stepped into the lobby of a corporate building in the Financial District and approached the reception counter. The woman behind the desk oblivious to their approach as she filed her nails while snapping the gum in her mouth; lazily blowing bubbles.

"Excuse me, we're looking for Ter-" the overly peroxide-blonde receptionist held out an index finger, silencing Tara while she continued to speak into the microphone of the headset she was wearing.

Tara turned to the side to look at Julian with an annoyed expression, drumming her fingers on the marble counter impatiently as she waited. When the woman continued to ramble on about some high-end designer shoes, Tara played her trump card by flashing her badge. She arched an eyebrow as if daring the receptionist to carry on with her brainless conversation.

"I am so sorry. How can I help you, Detective?" the woman asked after disconnecting her phone call, smiling pretentiously.

"We're looking for Terry Spencer," Tara answered in a monotone voice.

"Mr. Spencer is on the thirty-first floor. The elevators are right over there." She smiled politely as she extended her hand to indicate the direction in which the elevators were located.

"Thanks," Tara replied as she forced a fake smile toward the woman.

Julian bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing out loud. His partner sure did have a way with wooing the ladies. He lost count years ago at how many people his friend's gruff and to the point attitude had rubbed the wrong way.

"Bitch," the receptionist murmured under her breath after the two detectives walked away from her desk; heading toward the elevators. Clicking a button on her headset, she resumed her nail filing as the person on the other end picked up. "Ugh, Stephanie, you'll never believe what I just had to deal with."

888

"Hi Detectives, I'm Terry Spencer, CEO of West Coast Investment Bank." The balding, greying-haired, square-jawed man in a no doubt expensive suit greeted them as he held out his hand. "This is Margarete Thatcher, our new Managing Executive." He gestured to the raven haired woman standing posh beside him.

"Managing Executive? Isn't that the position Marcus was just promoted to?" Julian questioned quizzically.

"Yes. Mr. Nolan was supposed to be our new Managing Executive but because of the unfortunate accident… " Mr. Spencer sighed, visibly upset by his employees passing.

"Where were you Friday around midnight, Ms. Thatcher?" Tara probed as she eyed the new Executive. The woman was currently leading her mental list of prime suspects.

"I was at home alone, reading and relaxing. It's a very stressful job," she answered placidly. Tara unknowingly entered into a staring contest with Margarete.

"Is there anybody who can confirm your alibi?" she asked, her eyebrow rising slightly in confrontation.

"Not unless you know how to communicate with a cat," Margarete replied snidely as she folded her arms over her chest.

Tara's eyes squinted at the suspect as her nostrils flared in anger. She was about to cut loose with an equally snarky remark when Julian spoke up, effectively tearing her gaze away from the other woman.

"Did Marcus have any close friends who would know where he went Friday night before the incident?" he asked, his voice low and soothing.

"Yes, he had a few good friends. Fellow bankers" Mr. Spencer said as he nodded his head.

"I can bring you to them, if you want," Margarete said with faux friendliness, smiling in a way that made Tara shiver.

"Sure, that'll be great," Julian replied, seemingly unaware of the unnerving vibe his partner was picking up or the Executive's pretend chivalry.

They all piled into the elevator, descending down to the thirteenth floor in a matter of seconds. Compared to the environment upstairs, the thirteenth floor was like olive oil and water. Where upstairs had been spacious with large private offices, this floor was cramped with cubicles filled with desks, computers, cabinets and people alike. The hustle and bustle on this level was unmistakable. Exiting the elevator, Margarete led them through rows of desks, all the way to the other side of the floor.

"Gentlemen, this is Detective Maclay and Detective Wallace," Margarete said flippantly as she introduced the detectives to a group of well-dressed men who were talking amongst themselves as they congregated around the water cooler.

"Are you here to investigate Marcus' death?" One of the men, olive skinned in complexion asked as he smoothed out his tie against his chest. His colleague next to him checked Tara out rather unsubtly, sending her his version of a smoldering look. Tara grimaced in both annoyance and disgust at the man before looking away; unsparing his feelings.

"Yes." Julian replied simply. "We'd like to know where he went Friday night before he passed away."

"Well, actually, we were with him at a club downtown on the L.A. strip," said a squat, curly haired man.

"We were celebrating his promotion," the second man said as he continued to stare at Tara, his tongue occasionally grazing over his bottom lip.

The first man they had spoken to quickly interjected with a sheepish expression. "But, we were all drunk. We passed out in a hotel nearby. All we know is that Marcus wasn't with us when we woke up."

"Which club?" Tara enquired as she squinted her eyes. "And we also need to know the name of the hotel you stayed at."

"We went to the Gentleman's Club 'Vixens' on 9th and Hampton. Afterwards we checked into the Best Western three blocks away," the olive-skinned man said as Julian wrote down the information on his notepad.

"Thanks, gentlemen," Julian said as he closed the notepad and put it into the pocket located on the inside of his blazer. "That'll be all for now."

"I'll walk you out." Margarete led the way to the elevator and the two detectives followed a few steps behind.

They took the lift down to the lobby in silence. Stepping out of the elevator, Margarete escorted them to the exit, her heels clicking deafeningly against the polished tile. "Good luck with your investigation, Detectives," she said when they stopped at the revolving door. Tara though she heard a trace of challenge in the tone and frowned slightly.

"Thank you, Ms. Thatcher. Have a good day," Julian smiled politely, watching Margarete walk away. He couldn't deny that he was at least a little smitten by the dark haired woman, appreciating the way her hips swayed as she walked, the material of her dress clinging to her curves.

Tara slapped his face lightly from the side, jolting him out of his trance. "Hey! What you do that for?" he exclaimed, rubbing his cheek with his right hand.

"You were ogling," she replied flatly as she turned to exit the building. Julian twisted his mouth to a side in response.

Quickly, they got back into the black BMW coupe parked on the side of the road. "Let's head down to the hotel. See if the men's alibis check out." Tara proposed, buckling the seatbelt around her body as she adjusted her back comfortably in the passenger seat.

"Yeah, then we can check out Vixen's," Julian said with an animated expression. "Maybe we can ask Rosenberg to come along since, you know, the two of you have already made nice," he suggested.

"To a nude bar?" Tara snapped her head to the side to look at Julian. As soon as the question left her mouth, Tara's mind went into a standstill with an image of a half-naked Willow. Her eyes glazed over instantly, the product of Dr. Rosenberg plus topless, when her mind did the math. _This is a really bad idea._


	12. Chapter 12

Wednesday Late Afternoon

Tara sat on the hood of the car, kicking the tire beneath with the back of her foot while Julian stood beside her, playing some random beat on the roof of the car with his hands. They were about a block away from Vixens, waiting patiently for Willow to arrive.

They had come to the club straight from The Best Western. The hotel's receptionist and manager had both confirmed that Marcus' colleagues did indeed check into their hotel room around the time of death. Apparently, they had made an impression with the staff for being drunk and overly rambunctious.

"I can't believe you actually called her. And I can't believe she actually said okay," Tara grumbled, frowning in annoyance. She had thought Julian was kidding when he made the suggestion.

"I told you I was going to call her. And so I did," Julian replied nonchalantly. Tara let out a noisy breath in response. "Since you two aren't fighting anymore, I wanna try to spend as much time with her as possible." He continued, having always been somewhat hesitant about pursuing Willow because of Tara. Smiling cheekily, he added, "besides, if you guys do end up fighting, maybe there'll be a pool of Jell-O nearby."

Tara shot her partner an unapprovingly look. Moments before her insides had been twisted in guilt. Now, they felt like they were doing cartwheels as the image of her and the redhead wrestling in a vat of strawberry Jell-O swept through her brain.

After two excruciatingly long minutes, a silver hybrid drove into the empty parking space behind their black coupe. Tara hopped off the hood immediately, straightening out her appearance afterwards, making sure her black leather jack and white crew neck shirt were resting flatteringly against her body. In front of her, Julian was doing the same thing.

Willow was a little taken aback when Julian had called her to ask if she wanted to join them in the investigation at Vixens. Normally she would have turned down such an offer; her expertise were in a medical lab investigating the cause of death of the deceased, not questioning the living. She wasn't sure how much help she could be in this part of the investigation, but she figured she might as well since she had the night free and the opportunity to see a certain brunette detective was simply too good to pass up. She got out of her car and smiled in greeting as she walked up to the two detectives. Her smile weakened when she noticed something different about Tara.

"Why isn't your arm in a sling?" Willow asked in concern, knitting her eyebrows together. She moved to place a hand on Tara's upper arm, squeezing the shoulder lightly.

Tara inhaled a sharp breath at the gentle touch.

"My shoulder doesn't hurt anymore, so I took it off," she answered with a sheepish expression as she rubbed her right shoulder in reflex, the tips of her fingers nearly grazing those of the redhead. She bit down on her lower lip to force away the grin that was threatening to envelope her face.

"You could at least wait until your follow-up appointment to do that," Willow chastised quietly as she unconsciously stroked Tara's arm with her thumb. Each stroke made Tara's heart pound faster, the hectic rhythm thudding against her rib-cage. She tried to keep her breathing controlled as her entire body reacted to the gentle caress; driving her towards insanity.

Julian observed their interaction with his jaw hanging. The scene unfolding before him was much too surreal. So much for the Jell-O, he thought glumly.

"This is … " he trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't find any words to describe this."

"Don't be such a drama queen, Julie," Tara rejoined, earning a chuckle from Willow. Green eyes met blue ones in amusement and both of them blushed at the eye contact.

"You did not just call me that, Maclay." Julian seethed. He hated the nickname ever since he was young and his mom called him by it while dropping him off for High School one day. He had told the brunette that story in confidence while out drinking at a bar one night and Tara knew better than to call him that.

"Did not just call you what?" Tara asked challengingly.

Julian chose to stomp away toward the club instead of answering. "What did I say about being a drama queen?" Tara yelled out teasingly after him.

Willow smiled as she stared adoringly at Tara, thoroughly enjoying the playful side of the brunette whose serious side she had witnessed much too often. They walked side-by-side following behind Julian at a much slower pace. Their closeness resulted in the occasional brushing of arms and fingers, which were followed by the exchange of shy glances and smiles.

Julian's words kept repeating themselves inside of her head, preventing Tara from being able to fully enjoy the company of the redhead.

888

"I feel like I'm in heaven," gushed Julian when the three of them stepped into the club. He was feeling like a kid in a candy store. Naked women were performing stripteases on the main stage while scantily-clad waitresses were serving the customers. The smell of cigars and stale alcohol filled the air.

_I feel like I'm in hell_. Tara pinched the bridge of her nose. Her pent-up sexual frustration bubbling to the surface as beautiful women gyrated and shimmied down glistening poles all around her. She mentally cursed herself at the inability to control her hormones. Just then, a busty blonde waitress, wearing thick black rimmed glasses and a catholic school mini skirt with a black tie hanging loosely around her neck walked past them, giving her a wink. _Damn you, Satan._

In contrast to her two companions, Willow wasn't quite sure what to make of the whole scenario, which looked like an act straight out of an episode of Mad Men. She inched closer to Tara when a bald man seated at the table diagonally in front of them smirked at her, his meaty hand slapping his lap in beckoning. Frozen in trepidation, she watched as the man surrounded by several exposed girls licked his lips perversely while he violated her with his eyes.

Tara gasped and stiffened when she felt Willow shift her position. The redhead moved to slide her body slightly behind the detective, effectively pressing gently against Tara as she tried to escape the gluttonous man's gaze. All of her nerves and senses were on the verge of going into overdrive. _Do you know what you're doing to me?_

She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Let's head to the bar," she finally forced out, desperately needing a distraction.

"What can I get you ladies and gentlemen?" The bartender asked courteously as they approached him.

Scrutinizing the man with a faux-hawk and a perfectly groomed 5 o'clock shadow, Tara held up her badge, getting right down to business. She watched as the man nodded dumbly as he whipped a white dish rag over his shoulder.

"What can I do you for?" he asked somewhat anxiously.

"Did you see this guy Friday night?" Tara asked as she pulled a photo of Marcus Nolan out of her jacket pocket. "He was here with a group of men that night, probably in suits."

"Yeah, I sure did," he replied loosening up a bit after realizing he wasn't in trouble. "He and his friends were sitting in the booth right over there." He made a gesture towards the corner of the club. "They were throwing money around and buying dances like they owned the place."

"Anyone upset about that?" Questioned the brunette. "Maybe a dancer who didn't get much attention?"

"Are you kidding?" the bartender said through a short chortle. "The girls were all over them and vise versa. Everyone left here that night having made hand over fist in tips thanks to those guys."

"What about the other clientele? Were any of them upset about not receiving the same amount of attention?"

"The girls here are professional," he quipped. "They know better than to ignore anyone. Besides, lets face it, big ballers don't come in here everyday. It's the average working-class guy, bored with his home life, that keep our rent paid."

"Your dancers, do they wear body glitter?" Willow spoke up suddenly as she recalled the golden flecks all over the victim's body.

"They're not supposed to," the bartender stated. "Like I said, most of our clientele are married men and glitter isn't very subtle." He shifted his gaze around the room, looking at a few girls in particular. "But, not everyone follows that rule."

"Is there a rule about not fornicating with clients?" Willow questioned.

"What the women want to do outside of the club is completely up to them," replied the bartender as he began to multitask; pouring beer into glasses. "However, here, if the boss catches you on your knees for any other reason than a strip tease, you're fired."

Smiling politely at the bartender, Willow took a step back from the counter as she caught Tara's glare. Noticing the detectives face was impassive and thinking she had overstepped her boundaries, Willow gave the brunette a demure smile.

"Did you see him leave?" Tara questioned as she continued to glare; giving Julian as irritated sideways stare. Whatever happened to spending time with Dr. Rosenberg? He was presently engrossed with the performance on stage, his eyes glazed over as he watched the naked woman 'twerk' on the floor.

"Yeah, some smokin' hot chick came in here and then they left together," he answered as a goofy grin crept across his lips. "Hey, Sapphire! Come get these," he yelled out to a busty brunette at the center of the club. Tara's attention was diverted away momentarily when the stripper walked up to the bar counter, but managed to recover in time without looking leery.

Willow noticed the subtle peep, causing her cheeks to turn crimson and her heartbeat to double. Her breathing became heavier when she imagined Tara looking at her in that way.

"Can you describe her?" Julian asked, finally turning back to the investigation once the performance had ended. "Was she a fellow … entertainer?"

"Definitely not a stripper," huffed out the waitress as she positioned several beer bottles onto a tray before walking away.

"We were really busy that night, besides I wasn't really looking at her face," the man replied sheepishly, a small blush coloring his cheeks. "But, one of the surveillance cameras probably captured her." Without a word, the bartender disappeared into the back room before returning a couple minutes later with a box full of tapes. He lifted the container up onto the counter and pushed it across the polish surface toward the detectives. "These are from last week. Knock yourselves out."

"Right, thanks," Tara said disdainfully as Julian took the box full of VHS tapes into his hands.

Stepping away from the bar, the trio headed toward the entrance. As Willow and Tara left the dimly lit building to adventure out into the harsh light of day, the brunette breathed out a sigh of relief once they were back outside. The entire process had been pure torture for her, unlike Julian, who had turned around and took one final look at heaven before stepping out of Vixens.

The tree of them walked in silence to their cars; each occupied with their own thoughts. Tara was thinking about the petite medical examiner walking beside her and her heightened libido. Willow was thinking about the remote detective to her left and her unexplained jealousy when Tara looked appreciatively at the waitress. Julian on the other hand was thinking about the topless girls back in the club and when he'd be able to come back.

Breaking out of his daydream, Julian finally spoke up, smiling politely at the redhead. "Thanks for coming along with us, Dr. Rosenberg," He opened the door to the backseat of the coupe and put the box of tapes on the available seat

Brought out of her own musing, Tara turned to look at Willow; the two sharing a look. The disappointment in their eyes was evident. They had wasted nearly two years arguing about nothing in particular and now that they had moved on, the time they spent together just didn't seem like enough.

"My pleasure," Willow replied, forcing a smile back.


	13. Chapter 13

Wednesday Night

After making a hasty exit from the Gentleman's Club, Tara went back to Julian's apartment to help him browse through the numerous surveillance videos. It was approaching three in the morning when the blurry-eyed detectives caught a break. Their mystery woman finally appeared on the grainy black and white recording; the camera catching her from the back as she walked with purpose straight for the booth at the rear of the club. It wasn't until the suspect and victim got up to leave nearly twenty minutes later did the detectives get a clear view of her face.

Agreeing to get some sleep and reconvening the investigation later that afternoon, Tara left Julian's house to head to her own. At 0430 hours, Tara found herself sitting in the dark on the couch in her living room, fatigue assaulting her body but her brain refusing to let her succumb to sleep. Fiddling with the tape in her hand, Tara played every scenario she could think of, regarding Mr. Nolan's death, over and over again. When her thoughts started to shift from the case to an elfish faced redhead, Tara pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned.

As a faint light began to creep through the curtains, assaulting her weary eyes, she tapped her phone to life. Looking down at the clock on the display screen, she groaned again when she realized she had been sitting in silence for two and a half hours.

Realizing she would not be getting any sleep, Tara pushed herself off the couch. Walking toward her bedroom, she stripped her jeans off and grabbed a pair of shorts lying on the grown, pulling them up her legs quickly. Leaving the scantly used bedroom, Tara headed toward the closet next to her front door, pulling out a pair of worn running shoes. Slipping her feet into the well-loved Adidas, she tied the laces snuggly before exiting her home. A five mile run is what she needed, the burning in her leg and tightness in her chest would be a welcome distraction from the case and above all, from Willow.

888

Thursday Afternoon

It was nearly 1700 hours when Julian finally arrived back at the precinct, rejuvenated and ready to tackle the investigation head on. Looking at his partner slumped over her desk; he worryingly observed the heavy bags under her eyes.

"Didn't sleep?" he inquired even though he already knew the answer.

"Nah, sleeps overrated," she joked as she looked up at the slender man. "You ready to track down the lovely Ms. Thatcher?"

More than ready," he replied, as he picked up the keys to the coupe off of Tara's desk. "I'm driving."

Tara nodded her head in acceptance as she pushed her chair backward.

888

It had taken them longer than they expected to track down Margarete. They had stopped by her office first but quickly realized, thanks to the receptionist, that they had just missed the raven-haired woman. Deciding to stop at her house, the duo pounded on her front door for several minutes but received negative results. Patrolling around the neighborhood, it was by a grace of God that they stumbled across the Executive leisurely jogging on a nearby bike trail.

Apprehending the suspect with little resistance, the duo headed back to the precinct.

888

Upon returning to the precinct, the duo silently walked Margarete to the second floor where they placed the woman inside one of the empty interrogation rooms. With the door securely locked behind them, the two partners looked at each other, a silent but knowing look passing between them before wordlessly entering the adjoining room. Inside the small office, Tara and Julian leaned against the cement wall as they watched Margarete slowly pace around the interrogation room. If the woman was worried, she showed no signs of it. For the next ten minutes, they watched on as Margarete's demeanor stayed calm and collective.

"I'm gonna go get a coffee," Julian finally said, breaking the long stretch of silence. They were letting Margarette 'sweat it out', a tactic used many times before to get the suspect thoughts racing and lips loosened. It would only be a matter of time before the woman cracked and knowing Tara, she would want to be there to witness it. "You want anything?"

"No, I'm good," Tara muttered as she continued to watch the raven haired women through squinted eyes.

"Suit yourself," chirped the man as he pushed himself off of the wall; heading to the door.

"Come on Thatcher, give me something to work with," Tara muttered to herself as she continued to scrutinize the suspects facial features.

888

"What's the verdict?" Julian asked as he gracelessly walked into the room; his elbow hitting against the wood door as he attempted to keep it open without dropping his armload of takeout food.

"Nothing," Tara grouched out stone faced, her eyes darting to the left to look at her partner. "She's been in there for forty minutes and it's like she's not even phased in the slightest."

"Hmm," hummed the other detective as he walked forward, depositing the greasy brown paper bags onto the table in front of him. "Maybe she needs another hour to reflect. Here," he said, tossing the brunette a bag full of food. "I got your favorite, a bacon cheeseburger with a fried egg."

"You get fries?" Tara asked as she peered into the bag.

"Yup," quipped the male as he sat down in one of the available chairs, sliding another bag to the empty seat beside him, "and of the curly variety."

"You know me so well," chirped the brunette as she sat down next to her partner. "Thanks."

"My pleasure," Julian replied moments before biting into his own burger. With a mouthful of half masticated beef his eyes trained on the suspect on the opposite side of the two-way mirror, "Now, we wait."

888

"Why didn't you tell us that you were with Marcus Nolan the night he died?" Tara questioned, her expression demanding.

"You didn't ask," was the placid reply that came.

Tara clenched her jaw in frustration as she stared at the dark-haired woman seated opposite of her. She was in the interview room questioning the suspect while Julian watched from the observation room next door through the one-way mirror. Upon returning to the office to conduct the interview, the detectives decided to do the 'Good Cop Bad Cop' routine, Tara wordlessly being nominated as the bad cop.

"What do you mean I didn't ask? That was the first question out of my mouth," Tara retorted, narrowing one of her eyes.

"No, it wasn't." Margarete Thatcher shot back snidely. "You asked where I was around two in the morning. I was at home like I said before."

"So what? You didn't think to mention that to us? You were the last person to be with him!" Tara raised her voice as she slammed a clench fist down onto the steel table.

"It's my life; I choose what I want to say. I'm very much like you Detective Maclay. A private person," Margarete replied coolly, meeting Tara's stare audaciously.

Tara frowned and shook her head slightly. "You don't know anything about me."

Margarete smiled in a spine-chilling way. "I know more about you than you know about yourself."

Tara let out a bark of laughter, amused by the woman's tactics. "I really don't think so."

"Well, let me explain then. You lead a life of abandonment and loneliness. Most of the time you're just going through the motions. You rarely make a connection with people, so you replace the gaping hole in your heart with meaningless one-night stands. You surround yourself with death to numb yourself to the idea of dying. The tough facade you pass off is actually a mask for the little lost girl that you really are. How am I doing so far, Tara?" Margarete smirked in self-satisfactory.

Tara's urge to strangle the woman right there grew stronger by the second, her fingers itching to squeeze around the woman's petite neck, as Margarete went on with her deduction. Tara was positive that the executive must have done a background check on her to know this much. "You're wrong," she said calmly, not about to be pulled into the mind game that Margarete was tempting her to play. On the other hand, she could feel her blood boiling. The only other time she felt like this was when Willow unknowingly read her like a book. This time however, she had no desire to kiss the woman standing before her.

"Denial's not a good look on you, Tara," the dark-haired woman continued to taunt. She was getting slightly frustrated that her attempt to derail the detective had fallen flat.

"It's Detective Maclay. And thanks for your concern. So, what happened after you left Vixens with Marcus Nolan?" Tara asked, getting back on track with the interrogation. She had plenty of training when it came to suppressing her true emotions. Margarete would have to work a little harder.

Margaret let out a defeated sigh. "We went back to his house, drank a little and then I went back home," she proclaimed, her expression defiant.

"But not before you poisoned him," Tara responded.

"That's a very strong accusation, Detective Maclay," Margarete replied, glaring hatefully. Glancing at her watch, she heaved a sigh of annoyance before looking back up at the detective. "It's getting rather late, Detective. Now, I know my rights, either charge me with murder or let me go."

"You're not going anywhere," Tara stated firmly. She stood up from her seat and walked out the door. Once she had closed the door behind her, she squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled an exasperated breath. Margarete had completely seen right through her.

She took a few steps down the corridor and entered the observation room. She stopped dead in her tracks as soon as she opened the door, the second occupant in the viewing room catching her off guard. "What are you doing here?" she blurted out.

"I was told you were questioning a suspect, so I came in here," Willow explained, wearing an apologetic expression. She was astounded by the revelation she heard and wondered how much of it was true. When she had read Tara the riot act, it was based off of pure speculation and vague observations she knew would anger the brunette. This however, these statements that Margarete made sounded personal. When she had turned to Julian for answers, he was straight-faced and chose to remain silent.

Tara nodded thoughtfully as she stepped fully into the room. She wasn't sure how long Willow had been in the room, she just hoped she hadn't been in the room long enough to have heard what Margarete said.

"Tara, you know we can't keep her here right?" Julian said dejectedly.

"I know," she grouched as she looked through the two-way mirror. She watched as the raven-haired woman sat unperturbed in the interrogation room, staring into the mirror with a smug smirk. There had got to be something that they had missed, something that would connect this woman to the crime. "But something in my gut is telling me that she did it. I'm not gonna just let her go."

"Actually, I may be able to help you with that," chirped Willow as her face lit up. "I was able to pull a saliva sample off of the victim which matched the DNA found on the condoms."

"That's great news," Julian exclaimed. "Any matches in the database?"

"Unfortunately that's were my good news end." Willow said with a soft shrug of her shoulders. "I ran the sample several times but nothing came up. If we could pull a sample from Miss. Thatcher, I could cross examine it."

Snapping out of her admiration of the redhead, Tara turned her attention to her partner. "Julian, you try to get a warrant to search her house and to obtain a sample of her DNA. Dr. Rosenberg, I need you to re-examine the victim's body again, see if there's anything that might be able to help us further."

"What about you?" Willow asked just as Tara was turning away. "What are you gonna do?"

"I'm going back to the crime scene to do another check of the house. Hopefully she left something behind," Tara answered hurriedly before exiting the room.

888

Early Friday Morning

She had arrived at Mr. Nolan's house a little after one in the morning, ripping off the crime scene tape blocking off the front door as she entered the residence. For three hours afterward, Tara thoroughly searching the victim's house, room by room, inch by inch and had come up empty handed.

About an hour ago, as she was doing another sweep of the master bedroom, Julian called to inform her that he and Harris were having trouble tracking down a judge at such an early hour and that they would have to wait a few hours to obtain the search warrant when District Court opened. Exasperated, Tara continued with her search, crawling on hands and knees as she peered under furniture.

Pushing up off of the floor, Tara stood numbly in the middle of the gloomy living room, completely exhausted. She hadn't slept for over thirty hours and her body was starting to show signs of fatigue; her shoulders aching while her legs became weary. The sudden roar of thunder jolted Tara out of her daze. She looked out the large glass bay window to see rain continuously pour down from the sky.

It was moments like this that Tara hated the most. Alone, helpless and hopeless. She clenched her jaw and banished the intruding feeling for the umpteenth time in her life. Lifting her arm, the movement sluggish, she wiped beads of sweat off of her forehead using her sleeve.

_This is going nowhere._ She practically ripped off the blue latex gloves she was wearing and stuffed them into the forensic kit on the carpeted floor. She kneeled down and started repacking the contents of the kit, getting ready to leave. She could only hope that they find something in Margarete's house, which would point to her involvement in Marcus' death.

Tara slammed the kit shut and stood up, clutching its handle tightly. When she raised her head, the sight before her made her heart skip a beat.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

Friday Morning

She was like a homing beacon. The light at the end of a seemingly never ending tunnel.

Tara's heart thumped against her chest. She could feel its muscles constricting painfully then loosening for a brief second before the process started over again; sending surge after surge of lukewarm blood streaming through her entire body. Suddenly, she didn't feel so alone, so helpless and so hopeless anymore.

Willow ran a trembling hand through her dampened red hair as she stood at the front door, drenched. She had been standing outside the door for approximately five minutes, looking through the window as torrents of rain came down on her, when she at last decided to step into the house. The sight of the figure of despondence and forlornness that stood alone inside was heart-wrenching.

Tara slowly took a few steps toward Willow, her head cocked slightly to the side as she absorbed the image of the woman before her. The forensic kit clutched in her hand seemed to have become heavier all of a sudden, the handle slipping from her grasp slightly. "What are you doing here?" she whispered tentatively.

"I came to tell you that I couldn't find anything else of use on the body. And, also, to see if you needed some help," Willow answered, her voice shaky. She hugged her arms around her chest, her hands rubbing up and down her upper arms to generate some warmth. Her clothes were wringing wet, sticking onto her slim body. Droplets of water dripped steadily down her chin and from the tips of her hair.

"My god, Rosenberg, you're shivering." Tara hunkered down a little to place the forensic kit on the ground. Free from the kit, Tara hurriedly removed her jacket as she closed the distance between them. Stopping right in front of Willow, Tara threw her leather jacket over the other woman's shoulder, tugging the collar upward.

Willow looked at Tara; her eyes wandered the expanse of the brunette's flawless features before settling on a tiny scar on her left cheek. She brought a trembling hand up to caress the detectives face, feeling jaw muscles beneath her fingers flex instantly in response. Cautiously, Willow caressed the scar tenderly with her thumb, leaving wet trails across the other woman's cheek.

Tara looked down at Willow, brushing strands of moistened hair away from the redhead's delicate porcelain face. She watched as Willow's eyes fluttered close when her fingertips grazed the soft wet skin behind her ear. Gently, Tara traced the redhead's jaw-line down to her chin, and then continued the path downward to her neck, stopping at the sternum, fully exploiting the v-neck she was wearing. Beads of moisture hitched a ride on her fingertips, slowly dribbling down her own hand. As Tara's movements progressed over the pathologist body, her breathing became shallower by the second.

Willow's chest rose and fell in a rhythmically faster pace with Tara's caresses. She opened her eyes when the movement stopped. The sensual grazing had sent shivers of pleasure down her spine. Tara smirked ever so slightly when she saw dilated pupils looking back at her. She knew they must have been the reflection of her own azure eyes.

Cautiously, Tara flattened her palm on Willow's sternum, slowly moving upward past her pultruding collarbone to the back of her neck. Her other arm slid around the side of the redhead's waist, feeling abdominal muscles tense up immediately. Her eyes alternated between Willow's darkened eyes and her salacious lips. Tara was being overwhelmed by everything that was Willow Rosenberg; she never wanted anyone else more than she did this woman right now.

Willow's breath hitched when Tara began to lean in. Her eyes instinctively closing while her lips parted in anticipation.

"Do you like me, Willow?" Tara asked huskily, her lips barely brushing against Willow's with each word.

Willow opened her eyes upon hearing her name, the tone in which Tara spoke showed a mixture of intense desire and plead at the same time. It made her heart hitch. Tara was watching her though heavy lidded eyes. The pleasant warmth of the brunette's body, the gentle caress at the back of her neck, the tender touch on her waist and everything that was Tara Maclay suddenly became too much for Willow. Biting her bottom lip, Willow scrutinized her feelings; she never craved anyone this much before, especially someone she spent so much time hating. Foregoing a verbal response, Willow pushed aside her confliction as she crashed her lips onto Tara's, greedily sucking on the voluptuous flesh.

Tara returned the kiss enthusiastically. Something nagged at her in the back of her head, but she was too far gone to acknowledge it. Her left hand slid up Willow's neck to tangle in the mass of damp auburn hair as her right hand moved to rest on the small of her back, pulling the petite woman's soaked body closer. As their body's melded together, Tara realized that she never felt happier.

Willow emitted a strangled grunt into the kiss when the detective pressed their bodies firmly against each other's. Mimicking the detective, she placed one hand at the back of Tara's head while she slide her other one to rest on the brunette's hip. She allowed herself to be completely dominated by Tara. She had never felt safer.

The kiss was soft yet firm, tender yet fervent. It soon turned demanding as their need for one another took over. Tara ran her tongue along Willow's upper lip in an attempt to deepen the kiss and was granted access instantly. Tongues met unreservedly as they took turns exploring; savoring the other's taste. They were engulfed in the sweltering heat of passion. As their bodies melded together, both realized that they had never experience something like this before.

The last two weeks had been torturous for Tara; feeling as if her skin was on fire. She was beyond desperate for bare skin on skin contact; there was just too much clothing between them. She slipped the leather jacket off of the redhead's shoulders, her hands instantly seeking out the hem of the rain drenched shirt before the heavy material hit the ground. Creeping one hand under the sodden shirt, Tara allowed the tips of her fingers to roam the area around Willow's lower back. The feel of wet, smooth skin, elicited a gratifying moan from Tara.

Willow arched her back in reflex, pressing herself further into the brunette's touch. Their kiss was getting increasingly passionate and deep as tongues dueled for supremacy. The tiniest amount of self-control left inside the pathologist made its presence known. It took all of her willpower to pull away from the kiss. She rested her forehead against Tara's, remaining in the detective's embrace as she desperately tried to catch her breath. At the sudden loss of Willow's lip, Tara opened her eyes and looked inquisitively at the redhead, unsure as to why she had pulled away.

"We have to stop," Willow whispered, answering the silent question. "We're at a crime scene."

Tara was stumped for a moment before comprehension fully dawned on her. She let out a breathy laugh. "Right. I umm … I forgot where we were." She chuckled in embarrassment, slowly removing her hand from under Willow's shirt and placing it on her waist.

"I think we need to talk," Willow said softly as she played absentmindedly with the ends of Tara's hair. There were so many thoughts running through her head at the moment, she desperately needed to address each of them. She was unsure how they had gone from being enemies, to acquaintances to kissing in such a short amount of time. Everything had happened so fast, it was almost blinding. But, then again, it could be easily interpreted as two tears of built up sexual tension in the making that had been brought to the forefront two weeks ago.

Tara nodded understandingly; totally aware that her question, which started the kiss, hadn't been answered. "Yeah, maybe after this case?"

"You're really eager to catch that bitch, aren't you?"

"You have no idea,"

Willow busted out in a fit of laughter at the unexpectedly funny boorish declaration and hid her reddening face in the crook of Tara's neck. When her laughter died out, she sighed blissfully into the embrace. Tara tightened her hold in response, savoring the feeling of the petite woman nestled close to her body; not wanting to be anywhere else at the moment. After basking in the warmth for a few minutes longer, Tara took half a step backward, pulling away from Willow. As they separated, their hands reluctantly slipped off of one another.

"We better go," Willow finally said as she tucked strands of wet hair behind her ears.

"Yeah, we should." Tara forced a smile and looked away from Willow to hide her disappointment. She walked back to where she left the forensic kit and picked it up. Squaring her shoulders, Tara blew out a long breath as she tried to subdue her frying nerves. With no release whatsoever, her body felt as if it was caught in a bottomless freefall. Closing her eyes, Tara tried tempering her hormones once more before turning around to look at Willow.

Smiling softly at the sight of Willow snuggling back into her leather jacket; she approached the redhead and gestured to the front door. Together, they walked to the entrance way and watched through the glass windowpanes adorning the door as rain steadily poured down. Turning the knob, Tara clicked the unlock button on her keys, watching as the lights on her Jeep Wrangler blinked several times from across the street.

"Ready to make a run for it?" Tara asked with a twinkle of playfulness in her eyes.

"Absolutely," Willow replied, smiling brightly as she clutched her car keys to her chest.

They stared at each other for a brief second as if making a silent promise before dashing out of the house to their respective cars.

Smiling gleefully, Tara sprinted behind the redhead before coming to an abrupt halt halfway down the footpath; rain pouring down on her relentlessly as she stared off at a spotlight in the near distance. Squinting her eyes to focus her sight in the dark, Tara noticed a surveillance camera across the street on a neighbor's porch, the motion detector having activated when they ran out onto the lawn of the victims house.

Willow was about to open the car door when she saw Tara standing on the footpath. "Tara, what are you doing!" she shouted, holding the blonde's jacket with her hands over her heads as a makeshift umbrella. When she got no response, she quickly ran back. "What is it?" Willow asked, looking up at the brunette questioningly.

"That camera," she replied, nodding her chin in the direction of the neighbor's porch. Willow's eyes followed the direction in which Tara was pointing. "I didn't see it before."

"Well, you see it now. Come on, get into your car!" Willow pulled Tara by the arm towards the yellow, lifted, Jeep Wrangler. She then scurried back to her own car once Tara got into hers.

Sitting in the front seat, her water absorbed clothing seeped through into the cloth of her seat, accentuating the chill running through her body. Cranking the engine to life, Tara quickly switched on the heat to warn off the frigid area surrounding the cabin of the vehicle as she settled in. Sliding her hand into the front pocket of her drenched denim jeans, Tara struggled to remove her cell phone from its confinement. Clicking the power button on her phone, Tara pressed the speed dial number for Julian. This bitch is going down.


End file.
